To Love and Protect
by EstelWolfe
Summary: A traitor among the crew of the Pearl leaves Jack and AnaMaria surrounded by enemies. This is a sequel to 'A Taste of Misery' and 'Trust Me Still'.
1. Chapter 1: Not Again

Disclaimer:  I can't think of anything even remotely amusing at the moment, so we're settling with I don't own anyone you recognize . . .unless, of course, its an original character of mine that you recognize from a previous story, in which case I _do_ own them . . .

AN:  This story is the third in an arc that I've created, starting with 'A Taste of Misery' and continuing in 'Trust Me Still'.  Reading those first would be better, but for those who don't wish to, here's a brief recap.  Most important recap points from AToM:  Jack was almost killed by an assassin named Almorte that he angered, and Will and Elizabeth have twins that they name Jack and Ana.  Most important recap points from TMS:  Norrington is killed, Will is possessed by a sword and kills Jack, but then he's freed and Jack comes back from the dead, Jack and Ana-Maria start evolving their relationship from just a close friendship and kinsmanship to something more, and the Turner's move to Johnson, where Brian from AToM is, because Port Royal has been decimated.

AN2:  This is a story that has evolved from the arc-ending story I briefly mentioned might be forming, but at the moment it isn't looking quite so arc-ending.  I also don't think that it's quite so intriguing as the previous two (muses threaten to strangle EstelWolfe for being overly picky) but I want to write something, and I might be wrong.  You decide.  I realize that the previous probably isn't the best way to snare readers, but I believe in being honest.  If people dislike this and I get a better idea later, I'll drop this from the arc or leave it as a what-if thing.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 1**

"Jack . . ."  The pirate captain muttered something unintelligible into the pillow he was clutching as he turned towards the wall.  "Come on, Captain, time to get up and go back to taking care of your ship."

"Who says?"  His position didn't change as he answered. 

"Jack, ye've been in bed for over twelve hours.  Granted, ye weren't sleepin' the whole time, but ye need to see t' yer ship."  The bed shifted as Ana-Maria seated herself on the edge and reached one hand over to roll him towards her.

He blinked lazily a few times before answering.  "I thought we only took minor damage."

"Aye, Jack, but ye still need t' see to the crew and to getting us back to port, okay?"

The pirate captain swung himself up and out of the bed in one fluid motion, a small groan escaping his lips as he stretched stiff muscles.  Fingers expertly reached up and massaged his bare shoulders until the stiffness and the tension drained away.  Jack reached around and grabbed the female pirate into an embrace, earning a long, slow kiss before she pulled away.

"Feeling better?"

"Who said I wasn't feeling well in the first place?"  He stretched slowly, cat-like, his lean, muscular frame rippling, before he sat down again on the edge of his bed and rubbed idly at his left knee as he flexed his right hand.

Ana-Maria recognized the gesture.  She captured his left hand as she sat down beside him and gently turned it over, tracing the intricate web of lines.  "Which is it going to be this time, Jack?  Tortuga or Johnson?"

Jack grinned at her.  "What do you mean?"

"I know that look.  You're tired of playing pirate and you're ready for a small break.  You're just wondering if the crew will be willing to risk sneaking into Johnson or if you should just set sail directly for Tortuga."

"I was thinking no such thing."  He paused for a moment.  "Since you brought it up, though, do you think we could manage to get into Johnson?  It has been nearly a year since we last dropped by.  Can't have Will forgetting about us, can we?"

"Will would never forget us, and aye, I think we could manage getting into port.  We're not far from Johnson anyway.  Should I tell Edward to change course?"

"Bloody hell, no, we want to get there sometime before next winter.  I'll do it myself."

"That's better, Captain.  I'll see you on deck in a few minutes, savvy?"

"Savvy, love.  Just give me time to find my shirt and jacket."

Ana-Maria smiled as she left the captain's cabin.  Jack usually slept with his pants on and his sword and pistol within reach of his hand when on board the _Pearl_—she _was_ a pirate ship, and it was best to be prepared.  He also kept his maps carefully organized and his compass always within plain sight, as they were necessary for the safe navigation of his ship.

Everything else in his cabin, though, was in a haphazard kind of order at best.  Tokens he had taken from other ships that they looted mixed in with the few keep-sakes he had left from the ten years when he had lost the _Pearl_, and somewhere in the chaos lurked his two shirts and extra pair of pants, as well as the bloody remnants of what at one time had been his clothing.  She had once tried to organize his cabin, but had been quickly stopped by Jack, his eyes wide and horrified, insisting that if she moved anything he wouldn't be able to find it.  He didn't seem to find the fact that nobody else could find anything in his cabin troubling in the least.

There was one other object that Jack kept in a place of relative safety and logic.  The leather-bound book that Elizabeth had given him, a treatise on pirates that included a rather amusing version of the code, nearly always rested on top of the maps, save on the rare occasions when Jack slowly worked his way through it, occasionally sharing an exceptionally amusing, usually because of how wrong it was, story with Ana-Maria.  The book had been one of the few possessions that Elizabeth had taken from Port Royal, and Jack had been as stunned by the gift as he had been by the fact that two of the other objects were the carvings he had made for her and Will.

Stepping out on deck, Ana-Maria smiled as a warm breeze fluttered in off the ocean.  Jack was the most unique person she had ever known, and perhaps the only man that she had ever truly loved with her heart and mind as well as her body.

Will had been right.  People could be friends and lovers in equal share, even if they _were_ pirates.  The last four years had proven that to her beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Edward!"  Ana-Maria ambled towards the helm when no answer was forthcoming.  The man in question was slumped rather unceremoniously on deck, his eyes opened to bare slits.  Shaking her head, she moved next to the young man and nudged him with her boot.  "Edward, if ye want to survive this voyage, I'd be up and at my post before Jack comes up on deck."

The young man shifted his head to look at her and seemed to attempt to move before settling back down onto the deck.  Ana-Maria was on her knees in an instant, feeling his neck to find a heartbeat that was steady but much slower than normal.  His skin was cool to the touch, and his eyes, normally a lively blue, were black rings with the faintest hint of color in them.

"Oh, Jesus . . ."

This couldn't be happening.  Not again.  Not to Jack.

She quickly searched her memory for the names of those who were to be on watch.  "Jacob!  Stevie!"

No response came.

She found Stevie near the port railing, his breathing also shallow and his heartbeat slow, his eyes rolled back into his head, black pits with a trace of brown around the edge.  Jacob lay near the bow, his brown eyes open and staring, his graying hair wind-swept around him.  Ana-Maria knew without touching him that he was dead.

"Jack!  Jack!"  Panic was beginning to edge into the female pirate's voice as she hurried back across the ship.

"I see, love.  What colors are we flying?"

Ana-Maria blinked once before answering, surprised at the calm acceptance in his voice.  "British."

The pirate captain pointed off to starboard, and Ana-Maria could just make out a ship flying the British colors approaching.  "Good.  Not that I think it'll fool them, but we'll have enough time to see who's fit to fight."

She stared at the ship for a moment in wonder.  "We've been set up."

"Aye, and a right good job they did of it.  Come on, love, below decks wi' ye.  We need to wake who we can."

Jack's eyes were cold, devoid of any and all emotion.  Ana-Maria grabbed him by the arm before he could head down to where the crew slept.

"No matter what, Jack, you get off this ship if she goes.  You stay with me, you hear?  You stay with me.  I've as much a claim to you as she does."

Ana-Maria had thought that she caught a barely perceptible nod before the first explosion rocked the _Pearl_, tearing her apart from the inside out.


	2. Chapter 2: When Legends Die

Disclaimer:  My aunt bought me a copy of 'Two Towers' so I'll stop renting it and will have money left to buy the extended version when it comes out (it has entdraft and wild ents and Faramir seeing Boromir dead in the Anduin and if not for Osgiliath and elves at Helm's Deep and Aragorn taking a fall off a cliff that should have killed him but didn't it would be approaching very close to the books!) so I own that but not anything from 'Pirates'.

AN:  Oh boy, I dropped off the face of the Earth there for a bit.  I was a bloody brilliant nutter last year when I scheduled classes.  I spend half the day at a home school and half the day at an accelerated school for math and science.  Kids at my home school take five classes a day.  Most kids at the math and science center take three at their home school and three at the Center.  I'm taking  three at my home school, four at the Center, and one through another school district, as well as watching my brothers while my mom takes care of my grandma, who is only expected to live for another three months, only another six if the surgery they want to do is successful.  I'm also part of the Center Student Senate, tutoring a girl two nights a week, babysitting at the elementary PTA meetings once a month, and volunteering at the Nature Center on weekends.  I'm also supposed to be applying to colleges and for scholarships.  This means I'm getting about four, five, at the most six hours sleep a night.  Can anyone else see a nervous breakdown coming here?  My God, my God, I know you don't hate me, please don't forsake me now, I really, really need you, and thank you for not letting me find a job, it would just about kill me at the moment.  I'll write as often as I can, and I'll try to keep up the same quality of work that I've had before.  That's all I can promise.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 2**

Jack stood quickly, the ringing in his ears fading to be replaced by a crackling sound that he knew all too well.

His ship was burning.

His home was burning.

He staggered below decks, Ana-Maria on his heels, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he shifted to fit with the new rocking motion of his ship, a sickening, lurching motion that tore at his self-control.  He kept his face carefully impassive, restraining himself even from cursing, concentrating on salvaging lives to keep in control.  Better to be numb and functioning than screaming bloody denials to a god that had long ago turned its back on him.  That could wait until later.

Now it was even better to focus on what this chain of events meant.  He had been betrayed.  Again.  From within his own crew.  Again.

He had only taken on four new crewmen for the _Pearl_ in the last year.  Jacob was dead.  That left Ron, Terrence, and Michael.

It was dark below decks, dark, hot, and rapidly filling with an acrid smoke that made it difficult to breath.  Breaths that were drawn were filled with the stench of sweat, and a copper-tinted reek of blood so strong that the pirate captain could almost taste it on his tongue.

Men stirred slowly, gagging in the fetid atmosphere.  Jack reached down and hauled one of them up to his feet, shoving him towards Ana-Maria and a tentative escape before reaching down to grab the next one, not even bothering to put names to faces.  It didn't matter right now.  He only wanted to see three men, and he knew that he would recognize them.

A small grimace broke through Jack's mask of calm as he reached down to pull another crewman up and pulled his hand back coated with blood.

He turned towards Ana-Maria, barely visible through the smoke in the dim lighting.

"Get everyone off the ship.  Get yourself on one of the boats."

She shook her head emphatically, stepping towards him, one arm over her mouth to act as a filter.  "Not without you."

"I'll come.  I swear.  I need to see if anyone else is alive.  I can't protect myself if I'm worried about protecting you."

"I don't need your protection."

"That doesn't mean I don't have to give it.  Please.  Go.  I give you my word that I'll come.  They need someone who's completely functional at the moment to lead them.  That would be you.  I've already lost enough here today.  I don't want to lose any more."

He turned around, hoping that he had left no room for argument, and bent down at the side of the next man, grateful for the lessening of the smoke at the lower altitude.  When he turned around again, the female pirate had disappeared.

Jack worked his swift and silent way through the perhaps dozen corpses that lay in varying poses on the planking, recognizing Terrence among them.

He wasn't sure if it was a sound or a glimpse of movement that alerted him, but he moved nonetheless, earning only a gash from his right shoulder in a diagonal line across his back from what was most likely meant to be a killing blow.

Jack drew his sword, circling the other man as he tried to ignore the steady drip of blood down his back.  "Michael."

The man smiled, though his brown eyes remained hard.  "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Traitor."  Jack shook his head from side to side slowly and blinked, hoping to clear his vision, which seemed to be growing steadily cloudier.

"A pirate that calls someone else a traitor.  How entertaining."

"You're a pirate as well."  The pirate captain staggered and nearly fell as the ship lurched again, keening mournfully to itself as it prepared to self-destruct.

"Not quite, Sparrow.  It's funny, you know, but the same drugs that can be put into drinks, that make people so much easier to kill, ships so much easier to sink, can also most often be used to coat a sword."  The man side-stepped as Jack lunged forward, slamming the hilt of his blade into the side of the pirate's head.  The pirate captain fell forward, breathing heavily.  "I think I'll be going now.  After all, it's only the captain that supposed to go down with the ship."

Jack lay on the rough wood, struggling to stay conscious as the ship lurched around him.  It would be simple, so very, very simple, to just lay there until the fire reached the magazine and what was left of his ship, his world, tore itself apart in a cataclysm of sparks and fire.  It was a good end for a good ship, not as honorable perhaps as dying while raiding, but still a good end.  They would make tales of it, he knew, and sailors would remember the day the _Pearl_ went for years to come, maybe even longer than they remember her exploits in life.  He could be part of that.  All he had to do was stay where he was . . .

With far more effort than he thought the movement should need Jack lurched to his feet, reeling as the world tilted randomly and violently around him, choking and gasping as smoke filled his lungs.  He had given his word to a friend . . .to a lover.  He would keep it if he could.

He was dimly aware of his hands blistering as he crawled on hands and knees up the wooden steps towards the inferno that had at one time been the main deck of his ship.  No one was on deck, and from what his distorted vision could tell him all the boats were gone.  Ana-Maria had listened to him.

The pirate captain staggered upright, cutting a meandering path towards the railing, where he attempted to grasp it with both hands, surprised to find that he still clutched his sword tightly in his right hand.  He clumsily sheathed it before climbing under the railing, not trusting himself to climb over without falling over the side or to balance on top to dive without falling off.  He had a vague awareness of someone calling his name, but he ignored it, focusing on what would come next.

They were in deep water.  He had to get a long jump, as far away from the _Pearl_ as he could, and he had to keep his bearings, remember which way was up.  The salt water would burn all along his back, and he hoped that would help clear his head.

Taking a deep breath he dived, aware even through the haze that his form was utterly terrible and not caring much, so long as it got him away from what had been his ship.  He prepared himself for the shock of water, the flash of pain as salt water filled the slash down his back . . .

What he felt was pressure at his back and an explosion of pain and heat along the left side of his head as consciousness fled completely.


	3. Chapter 3: A Temporary Rescue

Disclaimer:  The creators are hunting me down with sticks to beat me for what I keep doing to their people . . .not that they were all that much nicer . . .

AN:  I'm sorry again about the delay in updating.  I thought that I could get a lot done this weekend, homework wise, healing wise, writing wise . . .yeah . . .God's up to his old tricks again.  Maybe he doesn't get that people don't normally hold conversations in their cars with beings who aren't there or stand out in rainstorms and scream at a sky that couldn't care less.  Maybe he thinks it's amusing.  I told you guys before that I go to the Center for half the day.  My entire class there is sixty-seven students . . .or it was.  I think God has a quota for us.  I think something bad happened to one of us freshman year, but I was too new to really be part of the chain of news.  Sophomore year a Center alumnus died in the Twin Towers.  Center alumni come back every year and talk to us, and they're just as close as the rest of us.  Last year he must have missed, or maybe he counts what he just did as last years since it started during the summer.  Our class is small, and it's close, and we care for each other, even if we're not really close friends.  Two weeks before school started again one of my classmates was driving home alone after midnight and she fell asleep at the wheel and crossed the median and two different vehicles that were much bigger than her car hit her.  She was hanging in there, even after cranial surgery to relieve pressure in the brain, and we thought she might have had a chance.  Don't trust to hope.  It abandoned my life two months ago.  I can't even really mourn correctly because I wasn't one of her really close friends and I see them managing to cope, or at least looking like they're coping, and I feel like I have to cope perfectly too and it's hard.  We can't even be angry at anyone because it was a stupid mistake that could have happened to anyone.  She was only seventeen, and we were all looking forward to our graduation, and it isn't god-cursed fair.  I don't know what I'm going to do if we lose another one, especially if it's one of my seven really close friends from the Center.  Sorry to rant.  Getting back to writing now.  I might decide to give this story to someone else to write if things get too much worse here, so if anyone is really keen on having it, just pipe up.  I'm posting a LotR fic, too, that I'm not sure at all about, so if anyone wants to look at that, or take it, drop me a line.  Yeah.  Writing now.  Writing is better than crying and screaming at the sky.  I can do those things later.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 3**

"Jack!"  Ana-Maria screamed even as she dove over the side of the boat, risking only a quick glance back to ascertain that she hadn't capsized it in her head-long rush before turning her full attention toward the water.

Pieces of the _Pearl_ lay in burning chunks all around her, while pieces of wood that weren't in flamte bobbed lazily on the water.  Barrels and pieces of sail completed the surreal picture.

Surreal.  She had seen other ships die and never thought it surreal . . .fiercely beautiful, in a way, and also vaguely sorrowful, but never surreal.

None of them had been the _Pearl_, though.  None of them had been her home for twelve years, her lover's home, at least in spirit, for over twenty-two.

The female pirate scanned the water, hoping against hope to see Jack swimming towards her, grinning his trademark grin, or, given the circumstances, vowing to see that whoever was the captain of the British ship found themselves without a helm.

No such sight greeted her eyes.

Breathing as deeply as she could, she dove beneath the waves, opening her eyes despite the sting of salt, cursing silently as the drag of her sword and pistol made in more difficult to swim.

She thought that she spotted him even as her lungs began to protest against the strain of being underwater.  Kicking hard, she broke the surface and dove again just as quickly, heedless to the sounds that were echoing on the surface.

Swimming straight down, she ignored the pressure that pushed upwards at her, intent on reaching the limp form below her.  The water around him was red with blood, a comfort in that it meant his heart still beat, a danger in that it would draw sharks and other predators.

Stretching down, she wrapped her fingers around Jack's forearm and twisted upward, drawing his body into a bear hug as she turned them both towards the surface.

Positioning her lips over his even as she kicked towards the surface, she exhaled slightly, sharing what air she had left in her lungs, before clamping a hand over his mouth and nose.

Jack had started the air sharing as a game.  It had been a rare stretch of tranquility, the _Pearl_ riding at anchor, most of the crew either drunk out of their minds or sleeping.  She could see him in front of her eyes, bare-chested and grinning as he played, occasionally climbing back onto the _Pearl_ just so he could have the joy of diving off.  She had at first been content to watch him unwind, to share from the sidelines his joy, his love of the sea, but once he invited her to join him, it was nearly impossible to refuse.

Unlike most people, even most sailors and pirates, Jack could not only swim, he could swim just as long and just as well as he could walk . . .according to some people, given how he walked, better and more naturally than he could walk.  Even so, he had almost drowned both of them the first time he dragged her underwater and kissed her.  It hadn't taken very long to correct the problems, though, not very long at all . . .

His play might just have helped to save his life.

Ana-Maria broke the surface, gasping for air even as she attempted to find a position that kept both their heads above the water.

No longer being swept around by the currents, blood mingled with the salt water on the right half of the pirate captain's face to form a crimson mask.

Frightened shouts drew Ana-Maria's attention away from Jack.  The British ship that had been approaching before was now sailing around the wreckage, leaving a wide berth that would still bring her within range of the pirate's now basically helpless in the water.

The ship drew nearer still, and the female pirate waited, treading water, watching leerily, just able to discern a line of redcoats standing at the bow.

The sound of gunfire rang out over the water, and the female pirate watched as pirate's screamed in pain.  Most of Jack's crew had at least a rudimentary ability to swim, and some men jumped out of the boats and into the water, hoping to do what she wasn't sure.  A few returned fire, and two of the redcoats cried out and backed away, but more stepped forward to take their place.

Ana-Maria again clamped one hand around Jack's mouth and nose and sank, hoping to be overlooked in the general melee as they were closer to the _Pearl_ than anyone else.  A hiss of pain escaped in a shower of bubbles as a streak of pain ran down her upper left arm, but she otherwise ignored it, staying under as long as possible before surfacing again, grabbing a breath, diving, forcing air into Jack's lungs, and continuing to wait for the carnage to end.

When she surfaced again, the British ship had turned and was pulling away.  The surface of the sea reflected the sun with a definite reddish tint, and bodies sank slowly or floated on top of the water.

The female pirate towed her motionless burden towards one of the still-upright boats, keeping a careful eye on the British ship, but they seemed to be certain that they had hit everyone, as no more shots rang through the air.

Ana-Maria grabbed the boat with her left hand, wincing as her arm burned at the upward movement.  It was going to be nearly impossible to get both of them into the boat without capsizing it, and she somehow doubted that Aaron would be much help in getting them up, given that he was sporting a rather large hole in his chest.

"Jack, I could use some help here."  The pirate captain gave no response.  Ana-Maria waited a moment more.  Then she carefully maneuvered her captain over to the boat and threw one of his arms up and over the edge, which was riding lower than normal due to Aaron's dead weight.  Then she maneuvered his other hand up and over the edge before giving his entire body as hard a shove as she could upwards and in towards the boat, leaving the pirate captain hanging off the side, which listed towards him.

Ana-Maria quickly dove under the boat, grabbed the other side, and heaved herself into the boat, lunging across the small craft both to keep it from capsizing and to grab Jack as he threatened to slip back down into the sea.  A few minutes of maneuvering left Jack and Ana-Maria alone in the bloody boat.

The female pirate turned her attention to her captain.  He was breathing, though shallowly, and she suspected that he had inhaled salt water.  A slash ran along his back, and seemed to be from a sword rather than the explosion.  A combination burn and gash ran along the right side of his head, starting just in front of his ear and continuing upwards until it disappeared under his hair.  Her own arm burned where it had been grazed by the shot, but she ignored the pain.

She was stranded on a boat with one oar, an injured man, no food or water, no shelter from the sun, and no way to find help, in a sea that would more than likely soon be teaming with sharks and the like.

Stretching out next to Jack on the bottom of the boat to rest and dry off as she decided what to do, she consoled herself with the fact that it could be worse.

She could be utterly alone.


	4. Chapter 4: A Long Night

Disclaimer:  I own a large supply of caffeinated beverages and an overactive imagination which would very much like to own Jack, Ana, Will and Elizabeth, but reality keeps butting its unwanted head in and insisting I can't.

AN:  Free hours are good.  About a dozen of us have a fourth hour that is 'free', ie we're mentoring and can't get out to the site and back before fifth so we do the mentorship after school and on weekends, and we just had the most awesome discussion.  Who needs the professional shrinks they hired for us?  Let us sit and talk and we can counsel ourselves into feeling at least a bit better and being able to better cope, and we don't have to bare any more of our souls than our classmates already see, which, granted, is quite a bit.  As is probably fairly obvious at this point, I'm hanging in with the writing for at least a bit longer, though how long is still indeterminate.  Thanks to readers and reviewers and everyone for their kind words and support.  If you read my stories you see a good portion of me in how I portray the characters, so it wasn't really hugs from strangers, and I'm grateful for all the 'net hugs.  They really do help.  Now if only I could find a way to make myself concentrate on calc homework I might survive this year . . .

AN2:  I kind of changed the side of Jack's head that got injured, but I think you guys can understand that I wasn't exactly one-hundred-percent coherent when I last updated.  We'll go back to left side now, simply because that was the original plan.  Yeah.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 4**

Ana-Maria pulled the tattered piece of sail tighter around her body, one arm across Jack's chest to pull him close, fighting to ignore the thirst that was steadily gaining precedence in her mind.

It had been an interesting process, using a single oar to maneuver her way through the debris, hoping to find something, anything, useful, as the only thing she had found in the pirate captain's pocket was a compass that she hadn't seen for years, one that wouldn't do them much good as it didn't point north.  So the female pirate had grabbed the tattered piece of sail and a bucket from the bloody water, anxiety rising as she found nothing else.

The sail was something, at least.  It had kept the heat of the sun at a relative bay during the day, and she had scraped the dried salt off it, hoping that if they were lucky dew would form during the night on the sail that could be used as drinking water.

It had taken more work than she would have imagined to use a sword to cut rudimentary bandages from Jack's jacket, the remnants of which she had spread beneath his head in an attempt to keep him from hurting himself further if he came around suddenly.

Not that movement seemed to be a problem at the moment.  The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only thing that reassured her that he still lived.

Once she'd bandaged his injuries and used her teeth to help pull a bandage tight around her own arm, there hadn't been very much that she could do to help improve their situation.  She had quickly discovered that one-sided conversations could be very interesting, though having Jack respond would have been much more entertaining.

She closed her eyes to the bright map of stars overhead, willing herself to sleep and conserve energy and resources.

The female pirate had just fallen into a light doze when a choking sound brought her abruptly back to full consciousness, her heart skipping a beat in fear.  The choking quickly turned to a deep, heavy, wet cough that was no more reassuring.

Ana-Maria quickly shifted Jack into a seated position, the small boat rocking with the movement.

The coughing fit passed quickly, and the pirate captain blinked slowly and looked around, the faded blue fabric tied around his head lending an even more outlandish appearance to him than was normal.

"Jack."  Ana-Maria reached out and grabbed his right hand in hers.

The pirate captain seemed to attempt to lock eyes with her, and even by the uncertain light of the moon and stars Ana-Maria could tell that his left eye was bloodshot and that the pupil was larger in his left than his right eye.

"Jack.  Are you with me, captain?  I need you here."  She squeezed his hand gently, and a faint answering pressure was returned, though it was nowhere near his usually firm grip.  She leaned as close as she could to him as his lips started moving, but his voice was soft and raspy, and she wasn't even certain that what words she could hear were in English.

"Jack . . .I can't understand, Captain.  Can you talk any Iouder?  I speak English, too, remember?  Jack?"  She spoke softly, but a note of worry was creeping in despite her best efforts, and she couldn't help a thrill of fear as his eyelids half-closed and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He opened them again a second later, his voice stronger.  "San.  Where's Sandra?"

Puzzlement and a tinge of jealousy rose to join the fear.  She had always known that Jack had other lovers before her, but that another woman, one she had never heard of, would be the first one to come to mind now . . .

"I don't know who you're talking about, Jack."

"San.  Sandra and Anna and Thomas.  I'm supposed to protect them."

A second fit of coughing caught the pirate before Ana-Maria could respond, and he doubled over, gasping for air.  Ana-Maria gently rubbed his back until he sat back up, wiping his left arm over his mouth as he stared at her again.

"Ana-Maria."

She barely resisted the urge to pull him into a tight hug, sending a silent thank you to God instead.  "Aye, Jack."

"Where're Will and Elizabeth?"

She abruptly withdrew the thanks, cursing whatever God there was, though she did it silently, not wanting to upset the pirate captain.  Even injured, Jack would be a handful if he decided to become violent, and she didn't feel like trying to restrain him in the small boat.

"They're at Johnson, with Brian, just like they're supposed to be."

"Brian . . ."  He cocked his head to one side, the gesture infuriatingly, heartbreakingly familiar.  "Brian Lanebridges . . ."

"Right, Jack."

The pirate suddenly doubled over again, a low moan of pain escaping from his lips, and Ana-Maria fought back the urge to cry as she gently clasped his shoulder, bending down until she could hear what Jack was muttering under his breath.

"Didn't . . .didn' do it . . .'elp me, Will . . .hurts . . .didn' do it . . .don't leave me, don' leave me here, help me, hurts . . ."

"Jack!"  Ana-Maria grabbed him by both shoulders, hoping to force him to look at her but afraid to touch his head.  "Jack, that's all over, Barbosa, Almorte, the brotherhood, whatever else you're seeing, it's all over.  I need you here with me, Jack.  I need you all the way back, captain."

The two pirates stared at each other again before another fit of coughing nearly caused Jack to pass out.

"Jack?  You here yet?"

The pirate captain closed his eyes for a minute, opened them, looked slowly around, and then nodded.

"Good.  Come on and lie down with me, then.  There's not much to look at but water out there, and the stars seem to be the only show we're going to get."  When Jack made no move of his own, Ana-Maria gently tugged him down, settling his head gently on her shoulder.

"You really here, Jack Sparrow?"

"He sank my ship.  The bloody bastard sank my ship."  Pain and disbelief were blatantly evident in his voice.

"I know, Jack, and I'm sorry.  Thank you for keeping your promise, though."

"Had to.  Gotta pay 'em back.  Kill Michael and take that British ship . . .sorry, commandeer . . .find 'er and commandeer 'er . . .not my _Pearl_, though . . .never 'nother ship like my ship . . .kill Michael and take that ship . . .doing both, but order doesn't matter . . ."

She listened as his voice trailed off slowly, and Ana-Maria turned her head to look at him in profile as he slept, bloody, battered, and still so very proud and stubborn.

"You'll do them both . . .I know you will, Jack."

A chill wind whipped her whispered words away, bringing along with it the first faint haze of clouds on the horizon.


	5. Chapter 5: Claims and News

Disclaimer:  As I keep informing the telemarketers, I'm not considered legally competent yet to make major decisions, so could I possibly own them . . .?

AN:  Sorry about the delay in updating.  As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.  I really think I'm losing my mind here now.  I've been holding entire conversations with myself, talking to myself in the third person, falling off my usual perch on the back of the couch onto concrete and thinking as I fell that even with a farther fall water would be softer though I got the arm movements right as I was falling, did this little routine whereby I ran down the stairs, skipping the last six, jumped on the back of the couch, jumped off the back of the couch, attempted to run into the library so I could play with my computer, tripped over a blanket, fell flat on my back, and started cracking up laughing and didn't stop for about five minutes (no one was home so my dad didn't have me instantly committed), took far too much joy in all the necessary yelling for the pep band at the football team, and was literally stalking among the freshman later, definitely not walking like me, though I can't figure out yet who I was imitating (it wasn't Jack . . .I'd fall down and break something if I tried to walk like that . . .I walked into the fireplace once trying to get into the library and broke my nose . . .don't ask me how . . .).  If you guys are sure you want to keep reading a story by a nutter, by all means continue to.  Writing is a good way to stay fairly grounded in some form of reality, or so I've been informed . . .

AN2:  My dad has to go to New York on business for a week, so the boyos are mine again, so update times for this and my LotR fic (which I'm still working on, albeit slowly, as each time I go to look something up in the books like if Saruman talks to Aragorn or when Halbarad comes or how he bites the bullet . . .sword . . .arrow . . .I wind up reading much more than necessary . . .anyone know where an English to Elvish dictionary can be found?) are uncertain . . .

AN3:  A couple folks have asked about printing and archiving my work, and I have no problem with either.  It's an honor to be asked.  However, if you discover a way to make money off said work without going to jail, please inform this poor high school student so she can afford college next year . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 5**

"Jesus, Mary and Jospeh!"  Ana-Maria scrambled forward, attempting to imitate Jack as he moved rapidly from one part of the boat to the other, using his weight to keep it from capsizing in the waves.  Rain poured down in sheets, and she licked it off her lips as she moved, grateful for the moisture.

"Aren't going to help us here, love!"

"Well then who in hell is?"

Jack grinned at her, his eyes closer to normal than they had been before.  "You're not enjoying this?"

"I don't find dying enjoyable!"

The grin broadened.  "Who said anything about dying?  No, love, she's just testing us.  If she wanted us in the water and dead we would be."  Both pirates threw themselves at the port side of the boat as it tipped alarming, threatening to capsize before falling back with the heavy thud of displaced water.

"Well she can bloody well stop testing us, and if you're on such good terms with her, tell her!"

"She's cryin', love, cryin' for the _Pearl_, cryin' for the crew . . .We've got some drinkable water, at least, and this is fun!"

"This is _not _fun!  You're mad!"

"You've known me for how long?  Have I ever claimed to be sane?"  Jack threw himself forward as another wave swept under the boat.  "How can you not think this fun?"

Ana-Maria muttered under her breath as she stared at her captain and shook her head.  Jack laughed at her expression . . .a laugh that quickly turned into a deep cough that had him doubled over, gasping for air.  When he finally drew a full breath, he sat still for a moment, his face upturned and his mouth open to catch the rain as it fell.

Ana-Maria added another note to the list of things that the sea keened for.  Jack Sparrow.  He had always belonged to her, living the majority of his life on board a ship, venturing onto dry land only when it was necessary . . .or fun.  Earlier the sea had held him, caressed him, claimed him, begun filling his lungs with her essence . . .

Ana-Maria would be damned before she gave him back without a fight.  She leapt starboard as more waves caught and pitched the small boat, and a moment later Jack again moved his weight to help balance the small craft on the ocean, his movements slower but no less exuberant than before.

"If you're really not having fun, then I suppose you'll feel better if I tell you she says that it'll be over soon."

"That can have a great many meanings, Jack."

Jack just grinned harder and continued to rock with boat, his shouts, laughter, and coughs rising effortlessly above the sound of the storm.

She had been right.  Conversations could be much more interesting when Jack was responding.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Mr. Turner!  Will Turner!"  Will decided that it would hopeless to pretend that he hadn't heard and turned towards the voice, quickly assuming a look of pleasure that he certainly didn't feel.

"What a pleasant surprise.  I didn't know you made port last night, sir."

The other man just looked at him, a small frown on his face, but for once he said nothing about Will calling him by rank.  It had been a point of contention between the two men since Frederick Hallson became a commodore and the commander of the fort two years ago.  He hadn't called the previous commander 'commodore', either, but by his first name, as the two had become friends quickly through Brian's intercession.

Others might bear the rank of commodore, but Will knew he would always think of Norrington when he said it, and he wouldn't defile the dead by connecting him in any way, shape or form to the mockery that stood in front of Will.

Hallson was shorter than Will by about three inches, even standing stiff and proper in his blue naval uniform, and he always seemed conscious of the fact.  Where Norrington was a man who cared for the law, his men, and what was right, Hallson cared for himself and the praise and glory that he could earn through his work.  Nobody in the garrison liked him, and even Brian, who usually refrained from criticizing superior officers, had few kind things to say about him.

Then again, if Brian had been older and more experienced, he might have been the commodore now instead of just a captain.  Norrington had trained the young man well, and the men who served under him adored him to the point of dying for him, though if it ever came to a firefight Brian was always right in the thick of it.  He had risen quickly through the ranks, and he now had a ship of his own, the _Intrepid_, and his own style of captaining that seemed to Will to mix the strict military discipline he had learned from Norrington with the rough yet relaxed form of a certain pirate captain that he had kept in touch with.  Whatever he was doing, it was working, and Will couldn't wait until Hallson was gone and Brian got a second chance at becoming leader of the garrison.

Not that Hallson was incompetent.  That would almost have been better, as then he would have either gotten himself killed or shipped somewhere else.  There was just something distasteful, some even whispered dishonorable, about the way he conducted his captures and executions.  Will had as little to do with the man as was possible, preferring Brian's company or the company of the sailors coming into port with tales to tell of the _Pearl_.

The last time Jack had shown up, almost a year ago, he had left after barely two days, and left running, Hallson hot on his trail.  Will and Elizabeth hadn't heard anything from him since then, and had been forced to content themselves with sifting through the tales in an attempt to find out what, exactly, Jack had been up to.  Once Will learned to ignore the ones where Jack died, was cursed, or did something completely impossible like sprout horns and a tail, he had determined that the pirate was simply doing what he had always done.

Will forced himself to listen to the man as he continued his walk towards the forge, where he had quickly been taken on as an assistant four years ago, again thanks to Brian, and was now a full partner.

" . . .rather interesting time.  I know that you are familiar with Jack Sparrow and his crew of brigands, so I felt it would be kinder to tell you in person than to let you hear from tales or drunken soldiers."

Will stopped dead, turning to lock his brown eyes on the shorter man's blue ones, his breathing quickening as he saw the faint smile and the hard glint that he recognized all too well from the man's other victories.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak softly and with as little emotion as possible.  "What happened?"

"We gave them a chance to surrender, but Sparrow would have none of it.  Opened fire on my ship, and we returned it.  She made quite a show when she went, that ship did.  No survivors were recovered."

The world seemed to tilt slightly around Will.  Jack couldn't be dead.  Jack didn't just _die_, like an ordinary person, didn't just disappear without getting to say goodbye and then die without ever sending word.

Will had seen Jack die twice before . . .surely there was loophole here, as well.

"Mr. Turner, are you feeling well?"

Will snapped his gaze back to Hallson's, resisting the urge to kill the man who came to him with a smile as he said that Jack Sparrow was dead at his hands.  "You gave them a chance to surrender?"

"Yes.  A public hanging is the fate that the Crown wished for him, and that's what I was hoping to get.  I suppose they'll simply be pleased to hear that he isn't a threat anymore, though.  I already sent a ship to inform them of the events that transpired."

A sickening thought struck Will.  Ever since spending over a week on board the _Pearl_ with Jack Sparrow and company, his son had been enamored with ships and the ocean.  When Brian, Jack's godfather, had offered to take him on the _Intrepid_ as a gift for his tenth birthday, Will and Elizabeth had hesitantly agreed after much pleading on Jack's part.  Under normal circumstances Brian would have simply ignored the _Pearl_, and the _Pearl_ would have ignored the _Intrepid_, but if Hallson was there calling the shots . . .

He wasn't sure what, exactly, it would do to his son to watch his namesake and hero die, but he was certain that it wouldn't be anything good.  "Was Captain Lanebridges involved in this?"

The faint smile on the man's face faded, replaced by a look of annoyance.  "No, Lanebridges wasn't involved.  The _Intrepid_ was guarding the harbor.  The kill was all mine."

Will again restrained himself from beating the other man to a bloody pulp.  "Have they made port, as well?"

"No, they've gone further out for the time being.  The captain took your son on as a cabin boy for a bit, didn't he?"

"Aye.  If you'll be willing to excuse me, sir, I have to get to the shop."

"Oh, by all means, go to your work and I shall go to mine.  I just thought you would wish to know what has transpired."  The shorter man turned and left, that same faint, satisfied smile again on his face, and Will quickened his pace towards the forge.

He would tell Robert that something had come up at home and that he wouldn't be able to work until later.  Then he would go home, tell Elizabeth what he had heard, and somehow find a way to explain to Ana that Uncle Jack (Will smiled, the action threatening to bring tears, at the memory of Jack fervently insisting that he not, under any circumstances, ever be called Uncle Jacky again) wouldn't ever be dropping by again.


	6. Chapter 6: Rescue

Disclaimer:  I own a lanyard that I made that has pics from 'Pirates' down one side and from LotR down the other, because my school is stupid and somehow believes these will keep us safe (my friend says it's so they can ID the bodies after the shooting that really and truly would never happen at my home school unless I'm the one who does it) . . .

AN:  Not related to story.  May be skipped.  Weekends are wonderful.  I should be doing calc homework.  Obviously I'm not.  I should get some sleep.  Obviously I'm not.  I should be enjoying life as a senior.  I'm alternating between a bloody good time and the worst time of my life.  I think I'm having my first real 'crisis of faith', and I remember why I'm in band.  When we sing it's easy to believe in everything, but when the priest is preaching I find myself questioning, and then going off on a tangent that makes me depressed, at which point I start thinking about pirates, blacksmiths, elves, Numenoreans and other such things that have absolutely _no_ place in church, at which point I feel guilty and try to concentrate, when the whole cycle starts again.  Oh, well, it put me in the mood to write, so here I am . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 6**

"You honestly think he's dead, Will?"

Will paced the floor of their bedroom while Elizabeth watched him, curled at the head of the bed.  Ana had been crying off and on all day in between asking for her brother, and she had finally fallen asleep a few minutes ago.

"I don't know what to think.  I don't think Hallson would have sent a ship to England saying Jack was dead if he wasn't sure of the fact, but then again, he _is_ Captain Jack Sparrow, and I swear he has more lives than a cat."

"If he did sink the _Pearl_, Hallson couldn't have given Jack a chance to surrender.  That ship could outrun anything the Navy sent at it, and Jack would trade his soul before he risked his ship and his crew."

"If he sank Jack's ship . . ."  Will trailed off, and Elizabeth nodded, understanding what he meant.

They had been prepared for news of Jack's death, or so they had convinced themselves, and both had agreed that the pirate would more than likely go when his ship did.

Having thought it through logically and trying to decide if it was true now were two very different things.

"I don't want to believe he's dead, Elizabeth . . .No, not I don't want to, I _can't_ . . .I don't know, it's like I _know_ he's alive, if that makes any sense . . ."

Elizabeth looked up sharply.  "You feel it?  You sense him?"

Will stopped pacing to look at her.  "I don't know.  I just . . .he's alive, Elizabeth.  He's hurt, and he's in trouble, but he's alive.  I know it.  Does that make any sense?"

"Your son said the same thing about Ana four years ago and then led us directly to her cell."

Will sat down abruptly on the side of the bed.

"He said he could tell that she was scared and hurt and told Jack that if he was a good man he would go help her."

Will nodded, a small smile on his lips.  "And Jack got not only Ana, but me.  Not exactly the picture of a usual over-achiever."  The smile faded.  "I don't have a ship, though, and even if we succeeded in commandeering one based on one of my plans there's no bloody way I could lead you to him.  It's taken this long just to make certain that I'm sure he's alive."

"Jack's a fighter, Will.  If he's supposed to die, he won't, just so he can upset someone.  He'll find a way.  At least Hallson is staying at the garrison for the time being.  And just because _we_ don't have a ship doesn't mean someone else we know doesn't."

"Brian doesn't know what's happened."

"He might.  He's intelligent, well-liked, has our son with him, and Jack couldn't have been too from Johnson when Hallson found him if Hallson is back already.  The sea has always favored Jack before.  Don't doubt it now, Will."

Will nodded, pulling his wife into an embrace, his prayers that night all spent on a pirate captain, wherever he might be finding himself . . .

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack had been right about the storm ending quickly, and somehow they had managed to keep the boat upright and relatively empty of water while still collecting about a quarter of a bucket of not-too-salty water for drinking.

The pirate captain's sudden strength seemed to pass with the storm, a fact that depressed but didn't really surprise Ana-Maria.  Jack had lost a good deal of blood, and though no fever seemed to have settled into the gash across his back, the injury to his head would still bleed every time she removed the makeshift bandage to check it.  Both his bandana and her makeshift bandage were saturated with his blood.  He needed fresh water, food, protection from the sun, protection from the heat and the cold that warred at night on the open water . . .All of which he would have had on the _Pearl_, none of which she could give him while stranded in a small boat God-knew-where.

She had once been willing to kill him to spare him pain and to protect his pride.  Now she had dragged him away from a death that he would have been content with, a place in the tales . . .Had things between them really changed all that much?

Head wounds were always hard to predict.  They could kill, blind, cripple, deafen, mute, or drive a man insane, and it was nearly impossible to predict which would happen in which case.  With men like Jack, brilliant but not entirely grounded in the first place, it was doubly hard.  She supposed that she should be grateful that all he was doing was doing currently was time traveling in his own mind while sleeping, but she couldn't help the bitterness and the anger.

It wasn't fair.  It just wasn't bloody fair.

The only thing that had kept him completely focused and in control had been surviving.  Over the past twelve years she had seen Jack injured on more than one occasion, and it usually didn't slow him down at all until after the battle was over and won, at which point he would pass out if she, or Gibbs, when he had still sailed with the _Pearl_, or one of the other crewmen, hadn't noted that he was hurt and so been prepared.  She often thought that even if he hadn't stolen the cursed gold, he would still have survived long enough to see Barbosa dead, simply to spite the man.

If Jack died in a firefight, she knew he would take anyone that he could with him.  If he had a choice between dying and living, he would live longer than most people believed humanly possible . . .especially if someone he was with needed him and someone he didn't like wished him dead.

Both pirates had fallen into an exhausted sleep with the passing of the storm.  When Jack awoke coughing again, it quickly became apparent to Ana-Maria that it wasn't to their current situation as she received a detailed tour of an Indian port that she couldn't have pronounced to save her life.  The second time he had come to with a scream, stared at a point on the horizon for about a minute, and gone back to sleep without ever acknowledging that she was there.

The third time she had been awake and staring at the horizon when he stirred and slowly sat up, blinking against the glare of sunlight on water, no longer cut by the kohl that he normally outlined his eyes with.

"You here, captain?"  It had become a catch-all question for her.

Jack had responded slowly with a steady stream of words that were definitely not English.

Sighing, she moved to stare him in the eye, only then catching the faint traces of a grin on his mouth.

"It's Spanish, love, means—"  He never got a chance to finish as her hand moved automatically, connecting with his cheek with a sharp crack, and Jack had slumped back into unconsciousness.  When he came to a second later, it was with a promise to never play with her head again, and after a profuse apology from Ana-Maria the two had laughed and stared at the gently rolling water for a while before deciding to sleep again, as there was nothing better to do and one didn't feel quite so hungry or thirsty when one wasn't awake.

Now, sometime during the fifth day since the _Pearl_ sank, Ana-Maria sat and watched him sleep again, his hands twitching slightly, telling her that he was dreaming and that it wasn't too bad a nightmare, if it was one at all.  When things got bad in his dreams, Jack would start mumbling and his hands would latch on with iron strength to anything within reach.

She smiled at the thought that she knew him so well, but it quickly disappeared as Jack began to shake his head and mutter to himself, his fingers gripping his own shirt as though clinging to something in reality could help him fight whatever demons were in his mind.

Before she could move to wake him, he bolted upright on his own, causing the small craft to sway.

When Jack merely sat staring at the horizon, Ana-Maria moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her.  "You here, Jack?"

He blinked once before grabbing her hand.  "You have to come with me, San.  I can take care of you.  I can protect you from him."

"Jack, I'm not—"

"Why?  Is it because you need to take the little ones?  Anna and Thomas, I can take care of them, too, I can, and I wouldn't hurt them, San.  You need to come with me.  Please."  Ana-Maria stared, caught completely off guard, unsure what to say or how to gently jolt the pirate back to her reality.

"Jack . . .Jack, I'm not Sandra . . .It's me, Jack, Ana-Maria . . .look at me . . ."  

The pirate captain shook his head slowly, raising his left hand to his temple and pulling it away again, faint red marks on his hand showing that fresh blood had again soaked through the fabric.

"Ana-Maria . . .oh, hell, I'm sorry, love . . ."

She rubbed his shoulder gently.  "It's all right, Jack."

"No, it isn't.  I'm not doing very well, am I, love?"

Ana-Maria shook her head furiously.  "You're doing fine, captain."

"Captain.  To be a captain I need a ship and I need to know what's happening around me.  I seem to be having problems with both at the moment."  He smiled bitterly.

"You were there when I needed you, during the storm, you're here now, and you didn't have the _Pearl_ for ten years but you were still calling yourself Captain Jack Sparrow."

"I might not have had her physically in hand, but I still had her in my heart, and I knew I'd get her back eventually . . .or at least die trying."

"You've got another ship to try for, remember?  Or was I the only one who was aware of what you were saying when you were deciding to 'kill Michael and commandeer that British ship, in any order'?"

"So I've got a ship to try for.  That doesn't help with the other _minor_ problem, 'less you're going to keep threatening my life to make sure that I stay here."

"If you want me to, I will, but you seem to find your way back all right, and I'm sure it'll get better soon."  She squeezed his shoulder before dropping her hand, and he grinned at her before turning his gaze out to sea.  The two pirates sat in comfortable silence for a while.

"Jack . . .who was Sandra?"

The pirate captain looked over at Ana-Maria quickly, his eyes dark and hooded.  "Why do you want to know?"

"Because that's the second time you've come to with her on your mind, and I like to know my rivals."  She grinned to let him know she was joking, but he had already focused his gaze on a point far out on the horizon.

"The only rival you have to worry about is the same one I do, and you definitely shouldn't worry about San.  She's been gone a long time."

"What happened?"

"I was supposed to protect them."  Jack stopped, his body tensing.  "Am I hallucinating again, or is that a ship?"

Ana-Maria followed his line of sight, hope rising in her heart as she picked up on the faint outline of sails in the distance.  "Do you think they'll come this way?"

"They seem to be.  Can't make out colors or design yet . . ."

The two pirates watched in avid fascination as the ship drew closer and closer.

Jack cursed quietly.  "British.  Ship-of-the-line."

"We don't have much of a choice, Jack."

"No, I suppose that we don't."  The two pirates began yelling and waving their arms, hoping that if they hadn't been spotted yet, they would be.

When it was obvious that the ship was headed straight for them, both Jack and Ana-Maria quieted.  "I don't suppose there's a chance that we don't look like pirates, is there?"  Jack queried.

"If I look anything like you do, we both look like shark bait."

"Oh, well, that's encouraging."

Sailors and redcoats could now be made out on board the British ship.  A line was cast from the ship to the boat, and first Ana-Maria and then Jack climbed up, each greeted by a sea of suspicious faces and a gray wool blanket.

"Cap'n!  We've got 'em on board!"

"Thank you, Rollin."  An officer stepped through the crowd, a rather young man with sky blue eyes and a scar on the right side of his face.  "You are guests on the HMS _Intrepid_ at the moment, and, if you feel up to it, I require your names and an explanation for the state in which we have found you."

Ana-Maria smiled slowly as she realized that Brian was pretending that he didn't recognize them.  No one else had screamed out Jack's name, so it was possible that the ploy would work.  Turning to Jack, she felt the grin fade, quickly replaced by a look of concern.  The pirate captain was pale, sweating, and swaying far more than could be accounted for by the motion of the ship.  She realized it was the first time they had stood upright in five days.

"Ja . . .Jacob, you all right?"  Jack turned towards her and cocked an eye-brow, the beginnings of a grin on his face, before collapsing onto the deck.

Watching as Brian ordered two redcoats to carry Jack to the captain's cabin for the moment, Ana-Maria felt her own body begin to sway.  She was so hungry, so thirsty, so tired, and it seemed so much easier to just do what gravity wanted . . .

She didn't feel a third redcoat catch her right before she hit the deck.


	7. Chapter 7: Reunions and Plans

Disclaimer:  I own a slightly deranged muse . . .well, actually, a few . . .and seven chapters of unfinished calc homework due tomorrow . . .ha ha . . .not good, not good . . .very, very bad . . .

AN:  Muchas gracias to all reviewers and readers.  As you can tell, this is the next installment.  As I am writing this I am sitting down because if I stand up the world starts doing funny tilting things and I either walk like I'm drunk or fall down.  When I'm seated the world sits still, but I'm still nauseous and my throat hurts.  Please criticize accordingly.  Despite these facts I was planning to go to school today.  My mom told me no.  I said I have a calc test.  She said she'd wake me and send me to the Center to take it but that I should skip my home school.  I agreed wholeheartedly.  When she called to wake me I put on a sweater, as it's cold at the Center and if I'm cold I already have problems functioning (I'm the only one who ever passed out in our band because I got too cold and couldn't handle it anymore), and drove slowly and carefully to the Center.  Taking calc tests when ill is an exceptionally bad idea, definitely not good, not good.  My teacher is going to think I'm incredibly stupid . . .which, considering what I did, might just be true.  Back to the story.  I've gotten some conflicting comments on how IC Jack is, so if everyone could tell me what they like about my characterization and what they don't like I'll see what I think.  Go ahead and tear it apart, if you like.  My ego can take it.  I'll respond to anything that I'm given in the next chapter.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 7**

Ana-Maria twitched her nose, hoping to dispel whatever it was that was tickling it without jolting herself off her perch on the verge of consciousness.  As it was, she could fall back into sleep and dreams within a minute, but if she had to move to catch the offending object, it would be a hopeless cause and she might as well wake up now.

She had already come to once, but after taking a quick glance around to assure herself that Jack was close by and relatively well, she had fallen back to sleep, relishing in the feel of a solid ship around her.

Jack.  Ana-Maria sighed, accepting that she had knocked herself off the fence and into the realm of full consciousness.  She wouldn't be able to sleep now if she didn't at least look to make sure he was still doing well, and once up, she knew she would start thinking about where they needed to go from here, at which point she would hunt down Brian.

Oh well.  It had been nice while it lasted.

The something was back at her nose, and she reached one hand up to slap it away, sitting bolt upright on the cot as her hand connected with someone's head and a high-pitched yelp sounded through the cabin.

The boy had grown quite a bit since she had last seen him, and he was relatively tall for his age.  His brown hair had darkened some, though glints of red highlights showed that he had been in the sun a fair amount, and hung loose down to his just above his shoulders.  His brown eyes were the same as always, and it always struck her as odd at how similar and yet dissimilar to his father's they were.  Though the same shade of brown, Will's eyes usually reflected a gentle good humor, while his son's could only be described as mischief-filled.

"Jack Turner, what in God's name are you trying to do?"

The boy grinned at her, the expression almost frighteningly similar to one of Jack's grins, though he had the decency to lower his eyes at the reprimand in her voice as he quickly tied his hair back into a respectable ponytail.

"Captain Lanebridges said if you and Uncle Jack were awake to come and get him 'cause he wants to talk to you."

"Yes.  Did he mention anything about waking us if we _weren't_ awake?"

"He didn't say not to.  Besides, you weren't s'posed to wake up that fast.  Ana never does."

"Ana isn't a pirate."

"Now that you're awake, though, we might as well wake up Uncle Jack, too, right?"

Before Ana-Maria could think to reach out and grab him, the boy had moved over to Jack, who lay on his right side on another cot at the opposite end of the cabin.

"Uncle Jack, time—"  The boy never finished his sentence, jumping back in surprise as the pirate captain bolted upward and to his feet, one hand reaching on instinct for the sword and pistol that were no longer strapped to his side.  A moment later he was again seated on the deck, doubled over and fighting for breath against the same deep, wracking cough that had plagued him since the _Pearl_ sank.

Ana-Maria was at his side when he finally straightened, breathing heavily, wiping his face on the grimy sleeve of his shirt.  "You should really tell someone when they've died and gone to hell."

Ana-Maria frowned, not following his logic.  "I don't understand."

"Isn't that where all the demons are supposed to live?"  Jack pointed back over his shoulder at the boy, still sitting on the deck, his eyes wide.  About three seconds after Jack had made the statement, they narrowed.

"I am _not_ a demon, Uncle Jacky!  I'm a 'sponsible young man, and I'm going t' be a captain just like you and Godpapa Brian some day!"

Jack smiled, slowly standing again.  "It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, not, I repeat, not, under _any_ circumstances, even at _pain of death_, Uncle Jacky."

"If you don't call me a demon, I won't call you Uncle Jacky.  Deal?"  The boy held out one hand, his eyes large and solemn as he stared at the pirate.  Jack stroked a finger over his mustache, cocking his head as he looked at the boy, before slowly reaching down and gripping the proffered hand in a firm shake.

"Deal, lad."

Before Jack was entirely certain that the young man had moved he found himself the recipient of a tight hug.  He grimaced slightly as the boy's hands pressed down on the partially healed gash across his back, but he nevertheless returned the gesture.

"How come you didn't come see us?  Are you mad at us?  Papa keeps going down to the docks and into the tavern to see if he can get the older sailors to tell him anything about where you've been."

"Why can't he ask the young sailors?"

"He says that they aren't int'rested in a drink or a talk.  Says they're a bit like you in that respect, though they don't go back to get hit later."  The tone of voice and the small frown on the boy's face told Jack that Will hadn't told the boy what, exactly, the younger sailors _were _interested in.

Oh, this left so many possibilities to make this homecoming so very entertaining . . .

"Don't even think about it, Jack.  Will would kill you."  Jack just grinned at the female pirate.

"Uncle Jack . . ."  Jack looked down at the boy and sighed.

"It didn't have anythin' to do with ye, lad, or your family.  We were just busy."

The boy frowned.  "You're a pirate captain.  Don't you make your own schedule?"

"Brian's a captain.  Does he make his own schedule?"

The boy tilted his head.  "Kind of."

"Well, it's kind of for me, too, savvy?  How're your parents and your sister doing?"

"Papa's a partner at the forge, and he used to let me help before Godpapa said I could come on the _Intrepid_ with him.  Mama and Ana do girl things most of the time, though Papa's teaching Ana and me how to fight."

"Doesn't make you practice three hours a day, does he?"

Ana-Maria watched in amused fascination as the young man slowly shifted his stance and bearing until it nearly matched the pirate's.  "Only if I want to."

"Jack."  Both the pirate and the boy faced the door as the stern voice cut through their conversation, the boy stepping around the pirate and scampering towards the door quickly.

"I was just on my way to tell you they were awake, sir."

"I believe I told you to report back immediately, Jack Turner."  The pirates exchanged a knowing glance, both smiling slightly as they recognized the repressed grin on Brian's face as he stared at his young charge.

"I was going to, sir, honestly, but Uncle Jack started talking to me, and you said that I'm supposed to respect m' elders, sir, so I was just waiting for a chance to tell him I had to go and find you."  The boy sounded incredibly earnest, and Jack frowned as he recognized something familiar in the arm movements that were accompanying the speech.

"Well, now that I have come to you, I believe it would be wisest for you if you were to go search out Rollin and relieve him of the bundle that he has collected."  The boy nodded once, quickly moving to sidle around the young captain in the doorway, who caught him by the shoulder before he could make his escape, his face suddenly deadly serious.  "Remember, lad, his name is Jacob, and you don't know him at all.  Both their lives could depend on it."

The boy nodded, his brown eyes wide again, before scampering out the door and on his mission.  Brian turned back to the pirates, his strict military demeanor slackening.

"It's been a while, Jack Sparrow."

"Captain.  Why can't anyone ever remember that it's Captain?"

"If I asked you to call me 'Captain' all the time, would you?"

Jack seemed to consider for a few seconds.  "No, probably not, lad.  I still have problems seeing you in blue at all."

Brian smiled, one hand rising to the right side of his face as though on instinct.  "Things have changed quite a bit, haven't they?  Seems I'm still watching your back, though, same as your lady friend.  What happened?"

Jack's eyes lost their focus and he stared at a point over Brian's left shoulder.  Ana-Maria stepped in quickly.  "We were attacked by a British naval ship.  I didn't get a good look at it."

"There aren't that many in these waters.  Why did you engage them?  Why didn't you run?"

Jack snapped his gaze back to Brian's, his body stiffening.  "Because I misjudged.  Traitor on the crew.  Everyone else died.  I would have died, if not for Ana-Maria here."

Brian nodded, his expression thoughtful.  Before he could say anything else, he was flung unceremoniously forward as a large weight landed in the middle of his back.

"Jack Turner, how often . . .!"

"I'm sorry, Captain!  Really, I am.  I got everything from Rollin."  The boy looked down and gestured to the various articles scattered across the cabin floor.  Jack and Ana-Maria struggled to look stern as Brian clambered to his feet, only his dignity slightly damaged.

Brian sighed and straightened his uniform.  "That's good, Jack.  I think that you should go help Rollin while I talk to your aunt and uncle.  I promise that you'll get a chance to visit with them later, all right?"  The boy nodded.  "And remember, Jacob and Ana, not Jack and Ana-Maria."  The boy nodded again before leaving.

"It must be amusing havin' him on board for long periods of time."

Brian grimaced.  "You have no idea."  Jack laughed softly.  "Will hasn't spoiled him, and he honestly doesn't _try_ to cause problems most of the time, but that infernal humor of his . . .Yet he has the makings of a decent sailor in him, maybe even a decent captain, and I'll feel bad if I ask Will to take him back."

The young captain gestured to the floor.  "There's clothing here for both of you.  We don't have any dresses or other feminine clothing on board, just shirts and trousers for the sailors and uniforms for the soldiers.  I'm sure that breaks your heart, Ana-Maria."

The female pirate smiled, bending down with the men to help pick everything up.

"There's also a kit with a razor, standard military issue."

"What's that for?"

"If I really have to explain it to you, Jack, I'll be disappointed.  Everyone says that you're brilliant.  Figure it out."

"Guess I could use a trim after five days."

"No.  Clean-shaven, Jack.  I've seen you look respectable before, at the Turner's house.  Try it again.  How bad is your head?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably.  "Not bad."

Ana-Maria sighed in exasperation.  "Bad.  It's not really healing.  Still bleeds every time he touches it or I take off the bandage."

Brian broke eye contact with the pirate captain before he spoke.  "Any . . .other effects . . .from the injury?"

Jack stared at Ana-Maria, and she couldn't help but feel pity for him.  He looked like someone was repeatedly kicking him in the gut without giving him a chance to get up.  She smiled slightly at him.  "Not that we can't handle."

Brian nodded.  "How long were you out there?"

Ana-Maria answered again.  "Five days . . .maybe six.  I'm not sure."

Brian nodded his head towards the bloody bandage on Ana-Maria's arm.  "How bad is your arm?"

"Not bad."

Brian nodded again, turning his attention back to Jack as they dumped the various items on his cot.  "I know it's been a few days, and it isn't pleasant, but either I or someone else on board could stitch your head.  Maybe then it'll actually start healing."

Ana-Maria looked over at Brian.  "If you have the things, I can stitch him back together.  I've done it enough times before for pirates and their clothing alike."

Jack lifted his left hand, letting it hover just above the bloody bandage.  "Only if you let me get incredibly drunk first."

The young captain smiled slightly.  "That could be arranged.  Once your head's stitched up, you're going to unbraid your hair and take all the beads, all the trinkets, and most especially that bone out.  Understood?"  Brian cut in before Jack could voice any protests.  "We'll make port tomorrow afternoon.  If you look at least semi-respectable, chances are none of my men or anyone on the docks will recognize you.  That should buy you time to get to Will's house."

Ana-Maria moved to stand beside Jack.  "And what do we do from there?"

"I have no bloody idea in hell.  I was hoping one of you would have an idea, but, failing that, we improvise when the time comes.  Savvy?"

Jack grinned.  "Savvy, lad."

Brian turned to leave the cabin.  "I'll see you in a few hours, then.  Try to stay out of trouble, please."

"Lad."  Brian turned back, raising one eyebrow in silent question.  Jack placed his palms together and bowed slightly.  "Thank you."

The young captain merely smiled and nodded before exiting the cabin.


	8. Chapter 8: Damage Control

Disclaimer:  I think I've got Jack's concussion . . .or something . . .bloody world won't sit still . . .keeps tilting every time I stand up . . .not happy . . .

AN:  I'm answering reviews after the chapter.  I'm supposed to be working on writing a paper on social systems in Russia in the 1880's, but since I'm sick I think I shouldn't have to do it, so I locked everyone out of the computer room and have made it my home in my misery.  The pros of being sick are that I have a good reason to ignore my younger brother when he gets too annoying . . .and I can avoid my calc teacher in good conscious by staying home . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 8**

Will slammed the door to the house, taking a grim satisfaction from the small release, before stalking into the bedroom and falling face-down on the bed, breathing heavily.

Elizabeth was at his side before five seconds had passed.  "Will?  Will, what's wrong?"

Will rolled over, gazing at her kindly, and he felt some of the anger and pain begin to drain away.  "Would you like a list?"

Elizabeth smiled slightly, sinking onto the bed so that she could reach over and touch him in need be.  "You have a list?"

"Oh, aye.  We'll start with my brother's dead, and I didn't do a single thing to save him—"

"Brother?"

Will blushed slightly.  "Jack.  When I claimed him as family . . .during the whole brotherhood nightmare . . .I told him, when he asked, that he was like an older brother."

Elizabeth nodded.  "Why are you so certain he's dead now?"

"I haven't 'felt' him in over a day, Elizabeth.  Do you have another explanation?"

"Maybe he was rescued.  That's what we were hoping for, wasn't it?"  Will just stared at her.  "Besides, we couldn't get near any of the ships, and you said yourself that you can't sail one alone, and even with Ana and I it would be dangerous."

"One, my brother's dead.  Two, one of my closest friends is becoming the center of a mutiny, and he isn't even here to know about it."

"Brian?  Someone's trying to form an uprising around _Brian_?  How do you know?"

"Andrew Jenkin came to talk to me today.  He's the captain of the _Defender_ when Hallson isn't using her as a flagship.  He was very discreet, very political, but he wanted it to be understood in no uncertain terms that if Brian chose to step forward and claim control, he wouldn't stand in the way.  A man a good ten years older than me, at least fifteen years older than Brian, is trying to ensure that I know he won't stand in the way of an uprising that puts the younger captain in the position of power."

"What's happening at the garrison that they're talking about mutiny?"

"Whatever Hallson did to sink the _Pearl_, it isn't sitting right with his men, though they've been ordered to secrecy.  Jenkin dropped a few hints . . .said something about 'shooting men in the water' and 'hiring mercenaries to do soldier's work' and 'using traitorous means'.  Apparently one of the soldiers who was there had an 'accident' today.  He fell from the top of the fort.  From what Jenkin said, everyone knows it was a suicide, but they aren't ruling it that way, and he'll be buried in consecrated ground."  Will paused, running his hands through his hair.  "Hallson thought that bringing in the _Pearl_ would make him famous, give him a firm grip on the garrison.  He feared Brian's popularity, thought that Brian was trying to take his position.  Bloody fool's going to have his trick backfire on him."

Elizabeth sat frozen, still trying to put together everything that Will was saying.  "They're planning a mutiny around Brian because of what Hallson did, and he did what he did to keep a mutiny from occurring in the first place."

"Brian isn't going to know what to do.  Norrington never trained him to handle anything like this, and the only thing he's learned from Jack about mutinies is going to have been looking from the other side.  The poor lad's going to get quite a homecoming."

"When are they going to approach him?  _How_ do you approach someone with something like this?  Just go 'hello, sir, please come take power from the tyrant over there because we like you better than him'?"

"I don't know, Elizabeth.  If they approach him when the _Intrepid_ makes port, our son could be caught in the crossfire.  Everything's falling apart."

"Not everything, Will.  We still have each other . . .we have our daughter . . .Brian's intelligent, he'll find a way to work this out."

"You don't just work out basically an entire garrison asking you to seize control!"

"The governor could order Hallson to stand down."

Will laughed softly, the tone bitter and weary.  "Do you think he actually would?"

Elizabeth didn't answer, stretching out beside her husband and pulling him close.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"You ready, Jack?  This is going t' hurt like hell."

The pirate grimaced, cutting his eyes to the side without moving his head.  "I _know_ it's goin' t' hurt like hell.  This isn't the first time I've 'ad this done, ye know."

"First time I know of it's been on your head, and I've heard that's the worst spot."

"Jus' do it, please?  Waitin' is jus' as hard as the actual process."

Ana-Maria nodded, unconsciously holding her breath as she skillfully thrust the needle and thread through one side of the injury and out the other, quickly and efficiently guiding the thread into a tight knot that pulled the two ends of the jagged wound together before cutting the rest of the thread off.

"Jack?  You all right?"  The pirate had closed his eyes and was breathing in quick, shallow gasps, but he hadn't moved at all while she worked.  She knew the liquor Brian had offered him would help dull the pain, but it would in no way erase it.

The pirate didn't open his eyes as he responded.  "How many more are ye goin' t' put in?"

Ana-Maria looked at the bloody gash, a good inch and a half of it visible below his hair, another inch visible through the part she had made in the tangled mass.

"Another four, at least, probably five."

"Oh, hell.  Keep goin', love."

Ana-Maria nodded, working as quickly as possible, not interrupting the silence again until she had placed the sixth stitch.  Jack's posture hadn't changed through the entire process, his eyes were still tightly closed, and his breathing was still quick and harsh.

"Worst part's over, Jack."  The pirate captain didn't move, and Ana-Maria wiped her bloody fingers off on a cloth before dabbing the fresh blood off the gash in the pirate's head.  Then she grabbed the bandage she had set out earlier and wrapped it as tightly as she dared around his head, trying to set his hair, still done up with the beads, trinkets, and bone, so that he didn't look too much more outlandish than normal.

"All done, captain."  The pirate still didn't respond, and Ana-Maria moved to sit in front of him, raising one hand to his cheek.  "Jack?  You all right?"

Jack slowly opened both eyes, shivering slightly.  "No."

Ana-Maria restrained her instinct to pull back at the unexpected comment, instead reaching around and pulling his unresisting body against hers.  If Jack was admitting that he wasn't well, then whatever was bothering him was bad.

She spoke softly and gently to him, tightening her hold in accordance with his own tight hold on her.  "What's wrong, Jack?"

His voice was muffled in her shirt.  "Hurts like hell . . .hard to focus . . .keep having to remind m'self where I am, what I'm doin' . . .'m starting t' scare m'self, love . . ."

"Hey, Jack, it's going to be fine.  You're doing better.  You've kept it together all day now."

"I shouldn't 'ave t' work at keeping it together, love.  I shouldn't have to constantly look around me and be surprised by where I am . . .who I'm with . . ._when_ I am . . ."

Ana-Maria couldn't think of any argument for that, so she just hugged him closer to her.  "It's all going to be all right, Jack.  I promise."

The pirate gently disentangled himself from her hands.  "Don't make promises that are out of your control, love.  It's dangerous."

"More dangerous than telling Elizabeth that you'd find Will and bring him back?"

Jack grinned slightly.  "I did, didn't I?"

"Aye, you promised her, and you kept your promise, and I'll keep mine."

Ana-Maria gently placed her hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head forward and his lips against hers.  He had shaved his beard and mustache off, and the feel of smooth skin against her face was odd after four years of kissing him with them.  It took only a second for the pirate captain to respond, one hand moving under her shirt and caressing her back, his talented fingers causing shivers to run up and down her spine, his other hand moving to the back of her head and pulling her against him, deepening the embrace.

"If you're done, I'd like to . . .oh, shit . . ."

The two pirates broke apart, Jack turning towards the doorway with his trademark grin.

"Hello, lad.  Your timing needs some improving."

The blush on the young captain's face deepened even further, something that Jack hadn't thought was possible.  "I'm sorry."

"It is your cabin, lad.  Guess we should ask you before we start having fun, huh?"

"Oh, no, please don't.  Do you want me to . . .take a walk around the ship?"

"You're ship isn't that big.  You'd need to go around at least four or five times."

"Jack . . ."  Ana-Maria couldn't help but pity the young captain, who looked as though he might pass out simply from embarrassment.

Jack turned his grin towards her, the usual mirth back in his eyes.  "Six or seven times?"

The female pirate laughed softly as she punched him lightly in the left shoulder before turning back to the young captain.  "I'm assuming you had something you wanted to say to us, Brian?"

"Yes . . .When we make port tomorrow, you two are to stay here until I send young Jack.  He'll lead you through back streets to Will's house, and you'll avoid Hallson and the other soldiers.  You're well known, Jack . . .just about the last real pirate threat left in the Caribbean, and worth quite a bit to whoever brings you in.  Once you're at Will's, try to lie low and stay out of trouble until we can come up with some sort of plan to keep you alive.  Understand?"

Jack nodded.  "Sounds entertaining.  Anything else you wanted to say, Captain, before you go taking that long walk around your ship?"

Brian lifted one eyebrow and stepped aside.  "Just that your 'nephew' wished to speak to you, so I brought him along."

The young man stared at the two pirates, his eyes wide.  "What're you going to do that makes Godpapa have to walk around the ship all those times, Uncle Jack?"

The pirate captain stared at the boy for a few seconds before turning to Ana-Maria.  "Now, are you going to tell him, am I going to tell him, or do we still have to wait for Will to tell him, in which case we'll be the topic under discussion as he gets his education?"

The female pirate didn't answer.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will awoke with a small gasp, struggling to remember the impressions that had been so strong moments before.  It had been that 'feeling' again, the sense he had been clinging to that told him Jack was still alive.

Despair.  That had been the impression he received first, a deep, dark despair that had threatened to drag him down, a despair coupled with pain.  Just as quickly as the despair had come, though, it had gone, cloaked and filled and overridden by a sense of peace, a sense of friendship and love, and . . .and . . .

Oh, hell.  If that had really been what Jack was feeling, the pirate captain was either going to try to kill Will for seeing it . . .

Or die laughing at the look that Will knew would be on his own face if he told the pirate what he had sensed.  Maybe some things were better left unspoken.

Will tightened his hold on Elizabeth, kissing her neck gently, a soft murmur from her telling him that he had woken her.

"You can cross off number one on the list, love . . .I think he's alive . . .and if what I think he was thinking is right, he's not too badly hurt . . ."

Elizabeth muttered something unintelligible before drifting back off to sleep, and Will smiled at the night before willing himself back into the relatively safe arms of Morpheus.

Responses to Reviews:

Ginny-Star:  A dog with no nose is barely functional.  Jack can work without his trappings, he just doesn't like to, and Brian's just trying to protect him.  As to updating, I'm doing that as quickly as possible.

Rat:  According to my calc teacher, my math is earning me an F in the class.  Need more be said about that?  Also, a few reviews in AToM and TMS said they weren't sure about my Jack . . .I expected it in AToM, I knew with some of the latter parts I was setting myself up for it, but . . .Just an aside, I'm not attacking you or your review for AToM, it was exactly what I wanted and asked for, but _please_ never ever _ever_ accuse me of neutering characters, I'm mentoring with a vet and that just gives a _really_ bad mental image.  Also, Will was still making swords, and carving doesn't neuter a person, a lot of sailors used to carve (good way to spend spare time and if they had any talent it got extra money), or so my grandpa always told me, and he was an ex-navy man.  He can curse in several different languages, though he won't translate most of what he says . . .my uncle is Air Force and does the same . . .Sorry, getting way, way off topic.  Thanks for the vote of confidence for this story and my characterization.  Jack at tea, though . . .that could be interesting . . .very interesting . . .

Aratfeniel:  Happy reviewers make happy authors.  Glad you like Jack T. and Brian, 'cause so do I, as they are really and truly mine.  Everyone's going to have a lot more time in this story . . .it isn't anywhere near done . . .

Hollow-Ambitions aka Liz:  It shall be, shan't it?  Next chapter, too . . .I thought I might tack it on to this chappie, but it isn't done yet, so oh well . . .

Nikara:  Another vote of confidence!  Yeah!  The reunion occurs next chapter, which should be up . . .um . . .sometime . . .

Rinkufan:  I hope I feel better soon, too, and thanks for the vote of confidence on my OC's.  Just random info, I love how you sign "Still Hooked and Hanging", it makes me smile every time . . .

Cassandra the Heart Nut:  Brian _is_ a sweetie.  He has hard decisions coming up.

Erinya:  Thanks for the vote of confidence on Jack Sparrow, and I'm glad you like Jack Turner.  Glad you like my writing.  Don't have any vitamin C in the house.

Endril McMerlyn:  I didn't forget Jack's head wound . . .it still has a couple parts to play . . .Glad you like my characterization.

Starzangel:  I'm updating as quickly as possible.  I can't tell you how this story is going to end 'cause it has a couple possible right now, but thankfully the story seems to straightening out as I get to each part, so it should come out all right.  Plus, if I told you, why read the story?  Thanks for the kind words about my characterization, and I agree . . .*drool* . . .love Johnny Depp for making Jack unique.  This is the first movie I've ever seen him in, but he did wonders for the character, and I think I'll watch for more movies with him in it . . .POTC2 eventually . . .

Erin:  I'm hurrying.  Glad you like little JT.

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  It's coming, as quickly as possible, I promise . . .

Snow-Angel222:  Sorry to scare you, though I guess that that's a compliment.  I'm writing as quickly as possible, and am glad that you like it.

Elf-Vulcan:  Saying I'd respond doesn't mean I'd change anything.  I have reasons for some of what I did that might be controversial, and if anyone had a problem with characterization I would see if it was purposeful or if it was just accidental straying, which I might have corrected, but everyone seems happy, so I'm happy.  Thanks for writing in.

JackFan2:  MY BLOODY NAME IS THERESA NOT ROBIN!  I killed Robin and stole her computer and 'net hookup and e-mail!  Well, actually, she upgraded to bigger and better and donated all this stuff to poor broke Theresa, who was very happy.  Yes.  Ahem.  Better now.  I'm writing more, and I'm glad that you like my Jack.  As I told Elf-Vulcan, some straying was purposeful, but if there was something I was doing that many people didn't like and that wasn't purposeful, I might have changed it.  Not that it matters due to the happy responses I'm getting.  Thanks for writing in, and I like the explanation of how you do reviews and choosing stories and I'm grateful that you like mine.  Also, ff.net didn't send me all the reviews for this chappie . . .I went to check to make sure 'cause I gave my word that I'd respond to everyone and I keep my word, and a few hadn't been forwarded.  Rather obnoxious, that.

Zinnith:  Glad you like Jack, and yes, they're rescued for the moment, but they aren't out of trouble yet.  The reunion is next chapter, too.  I just noticed I have a reunion in all three of these stories . . .I need to start one where they're together . . .As for getting your sore throat, that's a scary thought, that a human virus could be transmitted through a computer.  Epidemics would be awful.

Kayden Eidyak:  Thanks for the vote of confidence on Jack, and this is an update.  Don't worry, Jack'll get all his stuff back on . . .I think . . .


	9. Chapter 9: Of Reunions and Migraines

Disclaimer:  Pirates are, by nature, not given to being owned, and even if they were available for ownership, I'd have to sell them to pay for college next year . . .unless we could find a way to use them in other ways to get money . . .

AN:  I'll respond to reviews again, and I'll try to do a better job.  I didn't mean to anger or offend anyone, I'm still new to this 'net thing and have discovered banter doesn't work well if not in vocal range of the other participant.  If it seems offensive to you, try emphasizing it in a different way, because however I'm thinking it, it is _not_ meant to hurt.  RL seems to have stopped bashing me on the head for a while . . .drowning in homework, but they think my grandma might now be eligible for a liver transplant, which would buy years, rather than months.  Hope springs eternal.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 9**

**Of Reunions and Migraines**

"Jack.  Cap'n, time to go."  Ana-Maria knelt beside Jack, who was leaning against the wall of Brian's cabin, his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest, either sleeping or simply resting, she couldn't tell.

"Mmmm."  The pirate captain slowly opened first one eye and then the other, blinking a few times.  "San . . ."

Ana-Maria silently cursed the woman for whatever it was that she had done, friendly or unfriendly, that still enabled her to haunt the pirate.  "Jack, it's time to go to Will's."

The pirate shook his head slowly and then climbed to his feet.  "Right, love.  Sounds good."

"Come on, Unc . . .Mr. Jacob, Ms. Ana.  Godpapa said that I was supposed to take you home quick and quiet as I can."

Ana-Maria nodded at the boy, practically dancing in the doorway with impatience, as she settled one hand on the pirate captain's elbow . . .just a precaution, she reassured herself.  Jack was perfectly capable of following the child without her help, that dazed, pained look in his eyes be damned.

The pirate captain had finally acquiesced to Brian's increasingly heated insistence that he remove all the ornaments from his hair, and it now hung free around his face, the dark locks accenting the white of the bandage.  A small pouch at his belt held the ornaments and all but two of his rings.  Dressed in a faded and oft-mended white shirt and brown trousers, his sword and pistol strapped firmly to his side, he did, indeed, look "semi-respectable", though Ana-Maria knew by his stance that he wasn't comfortable with the fact.  Jack had spent far too much time playing the slightly mad captain of the _Pearl_ for him to be entirely comfortable in any other role.

The dark-haired young man led them swiftly through the knots of sailors and soldiers who were helping to dock the _Intrepid_ in the deepening twilight, his intent face telling all who might have spoken up that he was on a mission for the Captain that was not to be interrupted.  The pirates who followed him merely attempted to look as inconspicuous and harmless as possible as the boy trotted down the gangplank and through a group of redcoats, one of whom called out his name.  The young man merely shook his head and hurried on, babbling something over his shoulder that might have made sense if he was talking slower and there was less activity on the dock . . .or, just as likely, might not have.

Before the confused soldier could decide how to respond, the boy and his charges had disappeared into the crowds.

Ana-Maria kept a tight grip of Jack's arm, ensuring that he stayed at her side, worried about the distanced look that had taken up residence in his eyes.  She also took comfort and strength from the contact for herself, his presence reminding her that they had already survived against impossible odds.  After all, a situation couldn't do much but improve from being stranded and dying in a small boat, right?

The female pirate kept her attention evenly divided between the pirate captain at her side and the boy in front of them, who was walking rather erratically.  "Jack, are you all right?"

Both the pirate and the boy stared at her.  The pirate captain shook his head slightly, some of the distance seeming to drop out of his gaze, and grinned at her.  "Which of us would you be referring to, love?"

She pointed at to the young man, a grin twitching at her own mouth.  "Him.  I know how you're doing."

"Really, now?  You can read my mind?  That's not always a very safe thing to do, love."

The boy gestured impatiently for them to continue to follow him.  "I'm fine, Aunt Ana-Maria.  Just feels funny being on level ground again, that's all.  The world seems to be tilting a little bit when I walk, like it did when we first came here."

The female pirate nodded and allowed the boy to continue on.  When finally they slipped off the main road and out of the crowds, none of them noticed the figure that had been following them slip away, his pace quickening until the man was running as though a demon were at his back, threatening to devour his tainted soul. 

                           *                          *                          *

The pirate captain couldn't suppress a smile as they emerged from the catacomb of back streets that the young man had led them through and stood staring at Will's house.  He had missed the blacksmith, though he wouldn't have admitted it, and even given the circumstances, he would enjoy the reunion.

The grin widened as his eyes alighted on their young guide.  Given some of the circumstances, it was going to be very interesting indeed.  Now, if only he could do something about the bloody pain and fuzziness in his head . . .

He dispelled the thought quickly, not wanting to mar the coming minutes.

A quick hand stopped young Jack from simply running into the house.  "Let me knock, lad."

The pirate knocked loudly and then leaned as close to the door as he could without risking a fall when it opened.  A moment later the door swung open, and Will's face appeared in the gloom.

"Hello, lad.  It's been a while."  For a few seconds, the blacksmith simply stared at the pirate, their faces just inches apart, and Jack could see the other man's eyes widening as his expression shifted through shock, disbelief, anger, relief, and humor.  The boy used those seconds to slip under Jack's arm and through the door.

Before Jack was entirely certain what had happened, Will had managed to drag both him and Ana-Maria through the door, which he swiftly shut and bolted, and then had grabbed the pirate in a tight embrace that nearly lifted the slightly smaller man off the floor.  The pirate captain couldn't help a small hiss as Will's rough hands landed on the healing gash across his back, the pressure threatening to tear it open again, and he instinctively leaned closer to the other man, hoping to ease the pain.

Will released him from the embrace as soon as his ear caught the small sound of pain.  "Jack, what's wrong?"

The pirate grinned, the expression marred by the grief that was still in his eyes despite his best efforts.  "Nothing, Will.  I just tried to run away from a lover in her time of need . . .females can get so touchy about things like that, y'know?"

Will returned the smile, the motion obviously forced.  "I heard about the _Pearl_, Jack.  I'm sorry."

The grin on the pirate's face faded to a small smile.  "Me, too.  She'll be avenged, though.  Aye, she'll be avenged."

Will nodded slightly, his eyes troubled, before turning to the female pirate and pulling her into a less exuberant embrace, careful to check for injuries this time.  "It's good to see you, too, Ana-Maria."

"Aye, Will, always good to see ye."

Elizabeth moved forward, both Jack and Ana following her, and the pirate captain greeted her with a smile, all the while watching the two children.  He wanted to see Ana's reaction when her brother told her what he had learned . . .and Will's reaction would no doubt also be rather . . .amusing.

"Jack, where's Brian?"

The smile dropped off the pirate's face and his left hand twitched upward, hovering over the hair that partially covered the bandage wrapped around his head as he swayed slightly.  The young captain's name should _not_ have caused the response from him that it had . . .fear, uncertainty, worry, anger, hatred, though the last wasn't directed towards the captain . . .Oh, God, why couldn't his head just stop pounding so he could think straight?

Jack responded before Elizabeth could ask him if he was all right.  "At the docks still, I think, or maybe at the fort.  He was going to check in and then drop by to say that he's still alive and well, despite the fact that you harnessed him with the dem—"  Jack paused at the look on the young man's face before continuing with more of a grin, his equilibrium returning again.  "Monster there for a long period of time in a relatively enclosed space."  The young man frowned at Jack, crossing his arms and pouting slightly, and the pirate almost expected him to stick his tongue out like he had five years ago, but he was apparently too mature now to allow himself the pleasure.

"I should go find him, Elizabeth.  He won't be safe with Hallson."  The two pirates stared between Will and Elizabeth, sensing that something was wrong but not understanding what it was.

Jack was the one who spoke.  "Why wouldn't a captain be safe with his commodore?  Will?"  The pirate captain swayed again as anger, disgust, hatred, loathing, worry, loyalty, and a fierce protective instinct exploded into his already-sensitive head.

God, what was wrong with him?

"Some of the men here are planning a mutiny against Hallson.  They want Brian to be commodore.  I don't know exactly how many are on each side, but if it comes to violence, I don't trust Hallson to play fairly, and if he realizes what they're thinking of . . ."

Elizabeth stared at her husband.  "You think he'd risk killing Brian, Will?  If I were him, I'd be afraid that doing that would earn me a knife in the back or a slit throat."

Will shifted uncertainly.  "I don't know.  He's not the brightest man in the world, and he's already managed to alienate enough of the common soldiers that the officers are willing to play a hands-off game . . ."

Elizabeth idly grabbed at her son's hand to stop him from pulling on her sleeve, missing it but disrupting the tugging all the same.  "Maybe you should wait a bit . . .see if Brian comes . . .We don't want to cause any more problems, and if they haven't approached him yet, running up to him on the docks or in the fort and telling him will be like adding fire to a barrel of gunpowder."

"And if they have approached him?  What then?"

Jack looked up again, refocusing his mind on the conversation, attempting to ignore the pounding in his head and the itching, burning sensation that had settled around the stitches Ana-Maria had put in.  "One more voice in a group of mutineers, either for or against, won't do any good, Will.  Don't you go learning that the hard way like your father did."

"Jack, what do you want?"  The pirate turned to Elizabeth, who had finally grabbed her son's hand and was holding it still.

"Is Godpapa going to be all right, mama?"

"Of course he is, Jack.  Is that all you wanted to ask?"

He nodded his head.  "I also wanted to tell you what Uncle Jack told me—"

Elizabeth bent down so she was eye-to-eye with her son.  "Papa and I and Uncle Jack and Aunt Ana-Maria need to talk right now, Jack.  Why don't you take your sister and go tell her in your room?"

The boy nodded eagerly, grabbing his sister by the arm and almost literally dragging her across the room as she attempted to linger and hear what the adults were saying.  The adults watched until they had disappeared into Jack's room.

"Do you really think that Brian is safe?"

"'E's with 'is men, Will . . .they love th' lad . . .won't let anythin' 'appen t' him . . ."  The pirate captain was swaying badly in place, and he knew that his breathing was harsh and rapid and his speech becoming more slurred despite his best efforts to cover how he was feeling.  His head hadn't hurt this much in . . .well . . .he couldn't remember exactly how long ago it had been . . .or exactly what it had been that caused the pain then . . .but it had definitely been a long time.  The pirate captain was going to be exceedingly grateful to whoever made the first move towards the chairs and a seated position, though he refused to do so himself.  He wasn't actually entirely certain he would make it to the chairs, given that the world seemed to be rocking and tilting slightly every time he moved any part of his body.

"Jack?  Are you all right?"  Ana-Maria placed a hand on his arm, and he leaned his body against hers, hoping that the contact would help steady his vision and disguise the sway that was, for once, not purposeful.

Before the pirate could answer her, another wave of emotion added itself to the throbbing pain in his head, fear, frustration, dismay, confusion and self-reproach cutting through his control.

"Jack!"  Ana-Maria managed to keep him from collapsing completely as his knees suddenly gave way and his eyes rolled partway up into his head.  "Oh, Jesus, you bloody fool, you god-cursed stupid _stubborn_ man, why can't you just _tell_ me when you're hurting . . ."

Jack was barely aware of her diatribe, or of her hands on one side of him and Will's on the other, directing his unresisting body into one of the chairs that he had been eyeing earlier.  His head hurt so bloody much, it was almost impossible to concentrate, and when he did try to concentrate, those bloody emotions that he was fairly certain shouldn't be there pushed him away from his grounds.

"Jack?  Jack, what's wrong?  Where's it hurt?  Jack?"  It was almost impossible for Jack to make sense of the words, as his mind attempted to shove the familiar phrases into several different languages before giving up on translating them.  Panic was beginning to override everything else, making it difficult to breath . . .

Panic?  Why was he panicking?  He was safe in Will's house, as safe as he could be until he found himself a new ship . . .

The light slap snapped his head back, and the pirate captain gasped in pain.  "Jack Sparrow, don't ye _dare_ stop breathing on me now!  We've come too damn far for ye t' stop fightin' now!"

Breath?  Yes, breathing was good . . .It was something he should remember to do . . .It was hard to remember anything at the moment, though, between the pain and the panic . . .

"Not mine . . ."  The pirate wasn't even entirely certain if he had spoken the words or just thought them.

"He doesn't seem to have a fever . . .I don't understand . . ."

Elizabeth spoke up, pulling Will back from his place at the pirate captain's side.  "Will, it's you.  You need to calm down . . .it's working in reverse, Will, and he's not handling it . . ."

Guilt added itself to the panic, and Jack gave up on fighting, allowing the pain to brush away all thought of where he was, when he was, even who he was.  It just wasn't worth it.  Ana-Maria kept him upright in the chair, but he no longer felt her hands on his body or heard her pleas.  It just hurt so bloody much . . .

"Will, calm down!"

"Right!  Just calm down!  _You _try just calming down!"  Will still closed his eyes tightly, breathing in deeply and evenly, attempting to focus his mind as he did when working, focusing all of his being on reaching that point of calm, cool thought . . .

As the emotions filtered out, one by one, he felt the pain starting to creep in, a steady, throbbing pulse, and he quickly opened his eyes again, hoping to break the contact.

"That's it, Jack . . .nice, deep breaths . . ."

The pirate captain buried his head in Ana-Maria's shoulder, his entire body curling instinctively inward, thinking to protect him from more harm, not realizing that he was as safe now as he could ever be.  "Sorry, love . . .hurts . . .bad . . .really, really bad . . ."

"It's all right, Jack.  Everything's fine."  The female pirate turned wary eyes back to the Turners.  "What did you mean by that?"

"It's a long story."

"You don't seem to know any short ones."  Ana-Maria continued to hold Jack close, more frightened than she wanted to admit by what had happened.

Before Will could answer her, a child's cry was heard and all the adults turned towards young Jack's room.

"Then they _what_?!"  The girl's voice carried both horror and amazement.

All eyes turned back to the pirate captain as he laughed softly, covering his ears in case the girl shrieked again.  He really didn't feel like passing out.

"Jack?  What did you do?"  Both pirates glanced away at the slow, cautious way in which Will spoke.

"I just answered a few of the boy's questions, that's all."  Jack attempted to grin, only managing a slight grimace.  This would be so much more entertaining if he didn't feel like rolling over and dying . . .

"What kinds of questions, Jack?"  Will's voice was still dangerously calm.

"Brian and him walked in on me and Ana-Maria when we were just about to have some fun.  Guess what kind of questions?"

"Jack!  You had no bloody right to . . .!"  Will stopped when the pirate cringed back, his hands over his ears.  Allowing his guard to drop slightly, Will could again sense the pounding, vicious pain that was tearing through the other man's head.  "Go get some rest, Jack.  I'll yell at you when there's no chance you can escape by passing out."

"Good plan, Will.  I like that plan.  Intelligent, 't is."  The pirate closed his eyes, hoping that the darkness would hurt less than the light, but it wasn't a significant change, and his stomach was now adding its own complaints to the more overwhelming agony in his head.

Ana-Maria hauled him gently to his feet, steadying him against her.  "Where do you want us?"

Elizabeth answered as Will continued to look between the pirates and his son's room.  "You can have Ana's room.  She can either sleep in Jack's room or with Will and I."

Jack sank gratefully onto the bed, not bothering to take the time to even remove his boots, turning his head away from the light and placing his arm over his ear to dull the sounds.  He hardly noticed when Ana-Maria left, shutting the door softly behind her, further helping to block the light and the sounds as he tried to dim the agony in his head to something that would allow him to fall into sleep until it passed.

AN2:  This chapter might be rewritten, but as I hadn't posted in a while, I thought you all might appreciate it.

Responses to Reviews:

Endril McMerlyn:  I thank you for the kind words.  The evolution of the story is as much due to my nutter muses who won't work quite properly as it is due to my skill, but I still thank you kindly.

Ginny-Star:  I didn't mean to offend.  Very sorry.  Very kind lady for writing a nice review even when not thrilled with the author.

JackFan2:  That's fine, just a bit over-possessive of my name.  Thank you for the kind comments.

Rat:  I was once told I have a semi-eidetic memory that somehow ties in with my emotions: stronger emotion, better memory, occasionally photographic.  Unfortunately, this doesn't help much with calc, as I just can't get anything but bored about it.  Glad you like the twist.

Nabala:  I'm glad that you like my writing.  Just tell me which parts of Jack you think strayed and I'll see what my handy-dandy reasoning machine can dig up on why I did what I did.  I am sorry you failed math, and may you never see calculus, as it is very evil.  Um . . .have you read all three in the series, because that could make a difference . . .

Pip3:  Continuity rocks . . .except in calculus.  I'm not obsessed with calc, uh uh, no way.  I'm glad someone noted the continuity bow in chapter 1.

ScannerCatScan:  I'm glad you get it.  I'm not sure what I would have done if someone wrote in and said they _didn't_ understand what Jack and Ana-Maria were going to do.  I can't tell you if they'll have kids or not because I honestly don't know yet.  I also don't know if there'll be more long fics . . .the ending of this fic might . . .um . . .cause problems.  I've written a few little pieces I could post, though.

Saerry Snape:  *pokes review*  What's a Sandman?  Honestly, I'd like to know.  Thanks for the kind words, and RL seems to be backing off a bit.

Kayden Eidyak:  *Blushes*  If you wish to simply write "Good chappie", I can handle that.  I don't want to cause problems.  As for Jack getting his stuff back on . . .the story is so completely in the hands of a catatonic muse at the moment that it isn't funny.

Merrie:  I can't wait to find out what happens next, either, as the muses keep changing it.  ; - !  Glad that you're enjoying yourself.

BrokenSkye:  I don't want to be the next Center fatality!  Please?  If I die, I'll have someone post notification of the fact, then you'll all know to pass off the story to someone else.  Thanks for the votes of confidence.

Zinnith:  *Blinks*  There were mutant hampsters in TT?  How did I miss this? ; - )  I'm working on explaining the link thing, but my muse is having minor . . .hmm . . .major problems at the moment.  I'll try to explain it satisfactorily.

Cal:  Ah, the lovely link thing.  This was not in my original plans for this story . . .the muse has simply taken over.  Oh well.  Glad you like the chappie and my idea.

Starzangel:  Of course I have a good explanation for it . . .*pokes muse* . . .You created it, you bloody thing, you _better_ have a good explanation for it!  Seriously, I think I can work the link out, but it's taking some time, which is part of why updates are so infrequent.  Glad you like it still, though.

Mental And Knowing It:  I love that line, too.  I'm updating as quickly as possible, really I am, but the bloody muse . . .I can't do a thing with him, and yet I can't work without him . . .*sigh* . . .

Hollow-Ambitions:  Medical care back then was not fun, no way at all was it fun.  What exactly is the definition of angst?  I know enough to realize that I like to read it and usually write it, but I still haven't found a definition that makes sense to me . . .

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  He _does_ have a concussion . . .I guess nine might work, though . . .As for more, please be happy?

Phoenix-Flight:  I can't wait to see it, either.  I'm working on it currently.

Nikara:  I love Brian, too.  Oh, yeah, there is going to be some big trouble soon.

Snow-Angel222:  I knew it was a compliment.  I was trying to be amusing when barely coherent . . .not a good plan.  Thanks for reviewing.  Hope you enjoy the update!

Rinkufan:  Thank you.  I am feeling better, actually . . .basically human, which is quite amazing.  Sorry your 'net died for a bit . . .I would cry if mine did.  Glad you like the chappie.  Little JT is so sweet and innocent . . .for the moment.

Soappuppy:  Glad you're reading and enjoying.  I'm grateful that you like them so much, and I'm trying to write as quickly and as well as possible, but those stubborn bloody muses . . .

Vega Cataline:  I'm glad that you like Brian, and my Jack.  I thank you for the review.

Szhismine:  Glad that your interest is back and that I get to be part of that!  More is coming as quickly as possible, I promise.


	10. Chapter 10: News and Explanations

Disclaimer:  I own a muse who can't decide if he wants to be dead or not . . .can muses be vampirical in nature?  That's all that I own, though . . .except for Brian, the little kiddies that Jack's corrupting, the bad guys, and any other random people who creep in . . .

AN:  My dad's brother was just diagnosed with liver cancer, only his has metastasized and they're fairly certain that it's terminal.  Thing is, this was the _good_ brother, the one who never drank or smoked or did any of the stupid things that other male members of my dad's family, him included, were doing . . .Life has no sense of fairness.  Really, it doesn't.  I don't know if this will affect how much time I get to write, but it might.  If I decide to drop the story entirely, I'll inform people and pass it off.  This chapter is absurdly long, and I answer reviews at the end of it.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 10**

"How is he?"  Elizabeth placed a comforting hand on the female pirate's shoulder as they all moved to sit, trying to imagine what she would feel like if it was Will who was hurt and what kind of comfort would ease the pain and what would only exacerbate it.

"I don't know."  There was a hollowness to the other woman's voice that worried Elizabeth.  "Just when he seems to be getting better, to finally be shaking everything off, something like _this_ happens . . ."

"How exactly did the _Pearl_ sink, Ana-Maria?"  Will asked gently.

Ana-Maria closed her eyes and laughed softly, the sound oddly close to a sob.  "Traitor.  Bloody traitor, just one bloody traitor, coupled with some high-handed British naval men, and Jack never saw it coming.  Michael drugged the crew, apparently knowing that the British ship was following us, then set the _Pearl_ on fire.  He left enough time for himself to get off, but along the way, he spared a few seconds to cut Jack.  The coward had poison on his blade . . .Jack still made it off the _Pearl_, though.  He kept his promise.  I was in the water with him when they started shooting the crew . . .None of them stood a chance.  It was a slaughter at sea."  Ana-Maria balled her hands into fists and shoved them below the table to disguise their trembling.

"And you and Jack?"

"I was grazed by a ball, but that's it, and it's healing decently.  Jack wasn't far enough away when the ship went . . .he took a piece of debris to the head, tore him up pretty badly.  He was unconscious by the time I got to him . . .I think he inhaled sea water.  I managed to get us into the boat, but after that . . .all I could do was try to give him a ground.  Then Brian found us, we had food and water and I stitched his head up and he seemed to be all right, at least relatively speaking, but now . . .I don't know."

Elizabeth clasped Ana-Maria's shoulder in unspoken acknowledgment.  She had felt the same helplessness, the same fear and anger and near hopelessness, as they had trailed the Brotherhood and Will.  When she finally had Will back, injured and tormented by nightmares, all she had been able to do was offer a ground and hope it would be enough.

For Will, it had been.  His family was his life, his entire reason for living, and he had them all back intact, adopted and blood alike.

For Jack . . .Elizabeth wasn't certain what, exactly, the pirate lived for, but it wasn't to be locked up, even if the guards were friends.  Jack Sparrow valued his freedom, and without a ship, that was something that the pirate was going to find incredibly hard to maintain.

"His head hurts . . ."  Will tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something that the two women couldn't hear.

Ana-Maria stared suspiciously at the blacksmith, wondering what was wrong with him.  "Aye, I thought that was fairly obvious given what happened and the fact that he's doing his best to create a deep, dark, quiet hole in your daughter's bed to curl up and die in at the moment."

"I've never felt anything like this before, though . . ."  Will's eyes were unfocused, and the corners of his mouth twitched downward in a slight frown.

"What do you mean you've never _felt_ anything like it before?  What were you talking about when he was—"  Ana-Maria never got to finish her sentence, as the door rattled once, as though someone had attempted to open it and walk in without checking to see if it was locked, and a muffled curse was heard.  A loud knock sounded through the room.

Ana-Maria quickly stood and dropped back towards the door to Ana's room, hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword, as Will moved to open the door.

"Brian!  It's good to see you alive and well."  Will had the young captain through the door and was relocking it before he could answer.

Brian had changed out of his uniform and into a white shirt and gray trousers, his blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  To Will's eyes, he looked even younger than he really was when not in uniform, scar or no scar, and that youthful look brought home the absurdity of what was happening at the garrison.

The captain's first words weren't all that reminiscent of a great leader, either.

"You locked the door."  Brian rolled his left shoulder back, rubbing it with his right hand as he tilted his head first to one side and then the other.

"You sent me two wanted pirates and a much-corrupted son."

"Only minorly corrupted, and I had nothing to do with it.  I just watched and listened."  Brian grinned as he lowered his hand, but it quickly faded.  "You never lock the door.  Someone's going to notice if you start now."

"Aye, someone brilliant like you who just attempts to walk in."

"You said I was welcome at any time."

"Do most people honestly mean that when they say it?"

"Most people aren't you, Will Turner.  Seriously, if you're going to start locking the door, first off, warn me, and secondly, come up with a good reason if anybody else asks."  Brian turned to survey the room, grinning at Ana-Maria as she remembered to shift out of a fighting stance, frowning as he noticed that they were missing a member of their group.  "Where's Jack Sparrow?  He's only been here a few hours—even he couldn't get into too much trouble in that amount of time."  The worry on his face belayed his light tone.

Will shifted his gaze to the door behind Ana-Maria, his eyes again becoming slightly unfocused.  "He's in Ana's room . . .almost asleep.  He has a headache."

"A headache?  It must be one hell of headache to get him down before you've even broken out the rum.  You're sure . . .?"

Ana-Maria cut in before Will could answer again, her tone brooking no argument.  "Aye, he's fine.  He just needs to rest."  Brian nodded, moving to take a seat at the table, the others following.

"Did you already see Hallson, Brian?"  Will asked.

"Oh, aye, I did, got to hear a whole nice _long_ completely fabricated tale of how he took the _Pearl _from a man who must have been Satan himself in disguise, he was so evil and terrible to behold in fury.  At first, there seemed no way to defeat him, and Hallson was fearful that he would lose his ship and, of course more importantly, his crew.  Still, Hallson didn't falter in his quest, and soon he had seen to it that the evil would never ride the waters again, at least not in this lifetime."  Brian sneered slightly, again reminding Will of his youth . . .not that Will was all that much older himself.  "Still, he's utterly convinced that Jack and all his crew are dead.  I'd dearly love to see the look on his face when Jack shows up again with another ship and starts pillaging.  He'll be an instantaneous believer in heaven, hell and curses.  So, what's been happening here while I was out saving pirates from extinction?"

Will laughed softly, his tone just as light as Brian's as he replied.  "Not much.  Your friend Andrew Jenkin came to tell me that the men are talking about rebelling, getting rid of Hallson and making you Commodore, and he wanted me to know that he wasn't going to stand in the way, no matter what you decide to do.  Seems that when Hallson used a mercenary to help sink the _Pearl_ and ordered his soldiers to shoot helpless men in the water, they got an attack of conscience . . .one caught it so bad that he threw himself to his death.  Maybe you should lecture them on how you dealt with a guilty conscience."

Brian rubbed his right hand lightly up and down the scar on his face, his expression pure shock as he attempted to assimilate all he was being told.

"Me?"  He pointed at his own chest for emphasis.  "Commodore?"

Will nodded, his expression completely serious again.  "You.  Commodore."

"When . . .why . . .how do they . . .I never showed the _slightest_ interest in an uprising of any kind!"

Elizabeth stopped watching Ana-Maria watch the door to Jack's room in order to meet Brian's gaze.  "That's exactly why, Brian.  You're a good, solid, honest man that they trust, trained by another good man that still has tales told of him, despite the fact that he actually played on the right side of the law.  That's what they want now."

Brian straightened, instinctively falling back into at least physical military decorum.  "This is insane!  I'm not a commodore!  I'm just a captain . . .still young for a captain, at that!"

"Don't tell _us_ that, Brian.  Trust me, it wasn't my idea.  I never want to have to listen to a conversation like the one I sat through with Jenkin again."

Brian stared down at the ground, slouching again, his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging loosely down.  His voice was almost a whisper, conveying utter confusion . . .and fear.  "What am I supposed to do?"

Ana-Maria turned her full attention back to the young man, smiling slightly to take the sting out of her words.  "Definitely not what you're doing now, lad.  If they haven't approached you, don't go searching them out.  If, when, they do approach you, don't let them see you scared or confused.  You've already proven that you can lead, and they'll be watching to see if you can even in unexpected circumstances.  They'll expect you to be shocked at first, but take control quickly . . .and make a choice.  Will you accept a part in their plan?  That will influence what you have to do more than anything else."

"I don't want to be Commodore this way."

"Then tell them that, and be prepared to face the consequences.  They might still go through with their plan.  Would this Jenkin be willing to accept their proposition?"

"Possibly.  He's a decent man, but he's not getting any younger, and he's always said that if we both stay here he'll never get promoted."

"Is he ambitious?"

Brian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.  "No more than any other man.  If I accept, it would make it much safer for you and Jack, much easier for you to get to Tortuga or wherever else you're planning on going."

Ana-Maria shook her head vigorously.  "Ye keep me and Jack out of this.  We're not the ones that look to you for protection, for leadership.  We're not the ones that would suffer if Hallson discovered what's being planned, or if word reaches the Crown that it was an uprising and not a natural death and succession of power.  Are you even in position to become commander of the garrison if Hallson disappears?"

"Jenkin has seniority, but everyone still says that it will be me anyway.  It's not supposed to happen like this, though.  Oh, God, James would kill me if he knew I was even thinking about doing something like this.  Hallson hasn't actually done anything legally wrong . . .hell, by the law, he's the better man."

"Decent men don't shoot people in the water when they can't defend themselves.  They don't use poison on their blades, and they use their own men, not traitors, to get the job done.  You are by far the better man, Brian Lanebridges, and don't ye ever doubt it.  Jack will tell ye the same, and James Norrington would if he were still able.  After all, he let a pirate captain just walk out from under his very nose . . .and he did it twice."

"We had protection in Port Royal.  Your father was there, Elizabeth, and he was on our side.  James was the commander by order of the Crown, and most of the men either respected or feared him, or some combination of the two.  All I have here is myself."  Brian clenched his hands into fists, looking up at Will.  "What would you do in my place, Will Turner?"

Will shook his head.  "It isn't my decision, and I can't tell you what I'd do.  I honestly don't know.  As for James, he would be proud of you, of what you've managed to do and become, and I don't think even he would know quite what to do with a situation like this.  What I do know is that I'll back you in whatever you decide, and so will the crew of the _Intrepid_, as well as a great many from the garrison.  You aren't alone, even if your friends aren't those in power anymore.  "

"I know that, Will.  I'm sorry."  Brian ran a hand through his hair before standing, unconsciously falling into an attention posture.  "If it's all right, I'll see the children and then I should be heading back to the fort.  If I don't make an appearance soon, someone might come looking for me, and most of the fort knows where I'm usually to be found when in port.  We don't want anyone else dislocating their shoulder."

"Most everyone else is intelligent enough to knock.  Tell us as soon as they contact you."  Will stood and gathered extra blankets before heading towards the room where his children were still talking . . .he really didn't want to think about what, exactly, Jack Sparrow might have told his son that could keep both children entertained for so long.  "It's time that Ana and Jack went to bed.  You can help me convince them of that fact."

*                                    *                                    *

"I just wish to speak to the Commodore for a few moments.  I swear that it will not take long."  Michael attempted to look as piteous as possible, seething inwardly that this . . .man . . .this common soldier . . .was standing between him and his means of protection.

Jack Sparrow was somehow still alive and apparently relatively well.  If Michael had believed in heaven and hell, he would have agreed that one or the other was guarding the pirate, as he had more lives than any cat the mercenary had ever known.

He was also very adept at taking lives when he wished to . . .and Michael knew better than to hope that Sparrow would simply fade out of the picture and leave him in peace.  This was the same man who had carried a pistol with a single shot for ten years . . .the man who had chased undead pirates and unkillable soldiers . . .

The man was vengeful to the point of obsession, though he had never allowed it to carry so far as to affect his will to live.  If the pirate captain ever found him . . .or even heard word of him . . .

Michael rather enjoyed living, thank you.  He had seriously considered simply taking what he had earned for his part in Hallson's complex scheme and leaving the other man to face Sparrow's wrath.  Once he got over the fear of suddenly finding a sword or a ball in his back, though, he had realized that running would only postpone the showdown, whereas his aiding Hallson again could actually prove to be quite lucrative in the end.

"You know, the commodore really would be pleased to see me.  I am a good friend of his."

The guard shook his head, staring hard and Michael.  "He's with Captain Lanebridges, and they aren't to be disturbed except in case of an emergency, and I would say that you hardly qualify as an emergency."

Michael fought the urge to shake the other man.  None of the soldiers in the fort had known him until he came aboard the _Defender_ after the sinking of the _Pearl_, and yet now it seemed as though they all knew from personal experience that he was not to be trusted.  In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, this was one of young Lanebridges men, which meant the soldier had only been in port for about six hours.  Yet already he knew to put as many stumbling blocks as possible in Michael's way.

"Come back tomorrow morning, sir."  Michael opened his mouth to argue again, looked at the soldier again, and decided against it.  If he attempted to simply push past the soldier, it would more than likely only earn him a night in the brig.  He supposed that he could try to bribe the man, but if he was one of Lanebridges' men and his captain was with Hallson, that could prove to be hazardous to Michael's own health.  Lanebridges' men, like Sparrow's in some respects, were loyal to the point of death.

Dying for another man . . .a man who obviously considered himself your superior . . .that was something Michael had never understood.  He had lived aboard the _Pearl_ for over eleven months, watched Sparrow weave his spell over the rest of the crew, and he had never understood it.  All he had seen was a slightly mad pirate who had lived far longer than he should have and outstayed his welcome.

"I'll be back tomorrow.  Hallson won't be pleased that you kept me waiting."  The soldier shrugged, still watching Michael as though he expected the mercenary to draw his sword and try to run him through then and there.

Michael merely turned and walked away, running through the taverns he had found in this port in his mind, trying to decide which was the least likely to attract the pirate captain.  He was a patient man.

He could wait until tomorrow.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"You need to tell her, Will."  Elizabeth's voice was a whisper in the blacksmith's ear as she wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him closer to her in bed.

"I should tell him, first."

"I'm not sure if he's in any shape to understand at the moment."

"Understand what?  _I_ don't understand at the moment, and I don't have a bloody head wound."

"There has to be a reason for the . . .link . . .forming now, for it getting stronger and working both ways."

"If there is a reason, I'm not seeing it.  Having an explanation to tell Jack would be helpful, though.  I don't know how he's going to react.  He always plays things so close . . .I don't think he's going to like the fact that I can see what he's feeling."

"It isn't like you asked to, Will.  It just happened."

"Why do things like this always 'just happen' to us?  This time there isn't even a mutinous first mate or a slightly insane immortal soldier or even a bloody talking sword to explain things, and there isn't a single pagan god in sight to take my complaints to."

"No, but then again, the pagan gods and you and Jack don't have a very good track record.  Maybe you should try asking our god."

Will remained silent, uncertain what to say.  Elizabeth had taken his rather bad attempt at humor and given him an answer that he didn't really want.  He had never been an exceptionally religious man, and after fighting a curse from an Aztec god and a possessed sword that was in league to the Hindu god and goddess of destruction, what faith he did have had worn thin.

Not that he denied that there was definitely something out there.  The fact that he was still alive told him as much.  The fact that Jack was alive spoke volumes more.  Will shuddered, remembering the heat and the coppery scent and the sticky feel of Jack's blood coating his body as the pirate bled out from the injury Nerla had inflicted.  It was a sensation that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Elizabeth's arms tightened around him, and he willed his body to relax.  "I'm not going to purposefully seek out any interference from any god, goddess, or group of gods, but if he wanted to lend a helping hand just this once because he was feeling especially kind . . ."

Will's whispered words earned him a kiss and a murmured reassurance.  Even after Elizabeth had drifted off to sleep, he continued to stare into the darkness, his mind running over the same facts again and again, never finding anything new or helpful.

He could sense what the pirate captain was feeling.  That feeling came and went, apparently depending on how strong a sensation or emotion it was that Jack was experiencing.  Jack could apparently sense what Will was feeling when he became agitated, and it had the power to knock him flat and nearly kill him, at least when the pirate's own body was already betraying him.

"Y'know, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, and if it wouldn't cost me my soul or someone's life or something like that, I'd really appreciate just a little bit of an explanation here.  I want to help him.  To help him, I need to understand what's happening, if this is a good thing or a bad thing . . .a curse or a blessing . . .my fault or his fault or my father's fault again . . ."

Will knew little of Jack's past before the incident with Barbossa, and what he did know was disjointed and nonsensical.  Jack had willingly told him very little.  Will had been forced to supplement what truths he did manage to wrest from the pirate with guesses based on the tales that Jack willingly wove for the children or even simply for Will and Elizabeth.  The blacksmith didn't even really know that much about what the pirate had been doing between his visits . . .

It was completely possible that the pirate captain had gotten himself into some other curse.

It was completely possible that something else William Turner, Sr. did had decided to wait for years before coming after his son.

It was also, in Will's own opinion, completely possible that none of them had done anything and that darkness was simply still chasing them, the prey that had so far eluded capture.  After all, he hadn't done anything but strive to protect his family, and it had earned him a cursed sword through the heart.

"Just an explanation . . ."  The darkness didn't respond to his whispers, and Will turned away, willing himself to sleep.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

_The muffled sound brought Will's head up and his eyes fixed on the pirate captain, who was cursing furiously and rather incoherently as he tried to use his teeth and his right hand to tie a scrap of fabric around his left hand as a bandage._

_The pirate had been granted relatively free reign of the ship, though Will knew that Norrington had someone watching him at all times.  Jack hadn't attempted to escape, though . . .not that he'd had much of a chance yet.  It had only been a little over four hours since they left the island, and Will was still reeling from everything that had happened._

_He had rescued the love of his life, but where in the tales he would get to ride . . .well, sail . . .off into the sunset with her, instead he had to watch Norrington fawn over her._

_Not that Will harbored an extreme dislike of the commodore, or that the commodore was being anything but gentlemanly and protective towards Elizabeth . . .but that was supposed to be _his _place, his reward for everything he had put himself through.  He loved Elizabeth, and Elizabeth loved him, but she would marry the fort commander while he would return to his 'apprenticeship' with the drunken Mr. Brown.  Will frowned in distaste at the picture of life awaiting him at Port Royal._

_The sound of a snicker brought his mind back to his current situation and what he had been doing . . .well, watching.  What he had been doing was the same thing he had been doing and would more than likely continue to be doing until they reached Port Royal . . .wandering around uselessly, pretending to be properly subdued and shamed after the lecture that the governor had given him, which would have been much shorter if the man had merely said, "Thank you for saving my daughter's life, don't even think about saving the pirate, don't ever do anything stupid like this again, and you'll be pardoned of all offenses once we reach Port Royal."_

_The redcoat standing next to him laughed again, and Will glared at him.  Though they had been fairly kind to Will, one of them even helping him to bandage his own hand shortly after they arrived back at the ship, most of the soldiers and sailors either ignored the pirate, as though pretending he wasn't there would make him just disappear, or laughed at him.  After what Jack had been through, he deserved better than that._

_The redcoat caught the glare and shrugged at Will before moving on, the look on his face saying more clearly than words what he thought of the situation.  Consciously forcing himself to unclench his fists, Will moved so that he was standing in front of the pirate, who was kneeling on the deck, still trying to get a decent knot in the bandage._

_"Can I help?"_

_"Doneelp."  Will decided, given the glare that he was receiving, that the rough translation of the garbled words would have been "Don't need help".  Then again, if his lecture had consisted of, "Thank you for saving the boy and my daughter, but being a pirate is bad and I'm still going to allow the pirate-hunter to hang you", he probably wouldn't be in all that great a mood either._

_"Are you certain?"  The pirate rolled his eyes, removing his teeth from the partial knot so that he could talk clearly, at which point the bandage promptly slipped away from the slash across his left palm._

_"If ye really feel like tying it, be my guest.  It beats standing there and laughin' like that bloody soldier.  Not that it matters much."  The pirate extended his hand, and Will knelt down on the deck as well._

_The blacksmith's eyes widened and he gasped slightly in shock.  The cut to the pirate's palm was significantly deeper than his had been, though it didn't look as though it was deep enough to cause any permanent damage._

_Permanent damage?  What was he thinking?  He was talking to a man that would be dead within days._

_"You certainly didn't take chances on getting blood."_

_Jack was staring at him, a defensive set to his shoulders.  "I couldn't feel it, and I knew we wouldn't get another chance.  Didn't mean to get m'self quite so well as I did, though."_

_Will nodded, quickly tying the fabric tightly around the injury.  Even if Jack hadn't felt the blood when he cut himself, Will had.  He had felt the pirate blood on the medallion, warm and wet and slightly sticky, and he had felt the sting of the blade as his own blood flowed over the second amulet, some of it mingling with the pirate's.  Jack's blood had been on his hand, on the cut, and a little bit was more likely than not flowing through his veins as he spoke.  More pirate blood . . .Will refused to let his mind to follow that path._

_ "I'm sorry, Jack."_

_"For what?  Ye didn't do anythin' wrong, lad . . .'cept hitting me over the head and leavin' me behind.  That was downright piratical of you."  The pirate flashed that trademark grin of his, but Will refused to get pulled into the game._

_"They're going to hang you when we get back to Port Royal."_

_"Oh, thank you so very much for reminding me of that fact.  I am acutely aware of what the governor and the commodore were telling me, young Turner.  Don't worry about it."_

_"You deserve better than what they're giving you."_

_"Maybe, maybe not.  What happened to 'I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate I can kill him'?"_

_"I saw pirates die."_

_The grin faded.  "Ah, now that is a lesson.  Well, like you said, you'll soon get to see another pirate die, just in case you're thinking of forgetting it."_

_"Jack, isn't there something that we can do?  That I can do, that Elizabeth can do?"_

_"Not unless either you or the lovely Ms. Swann happen to have a spare ship hidden away somewhere, lad.  Just try not to think about, all right?"_

_"No, it isn't all right!  They're going to kill you!"_

_Jack lurched forward, his hands hovering barely a half-inch above Will's shirt, and Will could see small spots of blood on the pirate's bandaged palm.  "Key words, mate.  Me.  If I see a way out, I will take it and I will run like hell and I will find my ship and I will be the best damn pirate that your Commodore ever saw in his life.  If I don't get out, I'll die.  Either way, you are not to interfere.  I won't have two generations of fools' blood on my hands.  Savvy?"_

_Will didn't back away as the pirate leaned ever closer, using his physical presence as an intimidation tactic.  "No.  I don't savvy.  You may be a pirate and a cutthroat and a bloody scalawag, but apparently so was my father.  You risked your life for mine."_

_"I was after my ship."_

_"You would have had it anyway."_

_  
"Do you honestly think he would have given me the _Pearl_ to keep, Will Turner?  Besides, I sail under no other man's flag."_

_"And I won't answer to you on this, Jack Sparrow.  If I can help you escape, I will.  I owe you."_

_"Ye don't owe me, boy.  And if ye're going to be talking of escape plans, at least do it where no one else can overhear."  The pirate stood abruptly and walked away, leaving Will staring after him, not certain how he was going to keep his promise, but certain that he would._

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Will?  Will, wake up."  The blacksmith twisted under the blankets, pressing himself closer to Elizabeth and murmuring something completely unintelligible.  "It's all right, Will.  You were dreaming and talking and moving, and I thought it might have been a nightmare.  Will?"

The blacksmith didn't answer, already lost again within the folds of memories.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

_Will gripped the pirate captain by both shoulders, practically sitting on him in an attempt to hold him still and keep him from hurting either himself or the blacksmith._

_"Jack!  Jack, calm down, slow down, relax, it's all right, I'm here, Jack, just me, nobody else, Jack, Jack, damn you, listen to me!"  Will's voice increased in volume despite his best efforts to control himself, to remind himself that whatever Jack was fighting, he wasn't seeing Will._

_The pirate writhed once more before finally stopping, his entire body shivering violently, tears streaming from his eyes.  Will could feel the heat rising off the other man in waves, the fever still raging despite their best efforts to help the pirate fight it off._

_Will pulled back slowly, ready to restrain the pirate again if the need arose.  "Jack . . ."_

_The blacksmith attempted to lock his eyes on the pirate's glazed ones with no luck, listening to the stream of words tumbling from his mouth, hoping that something might be in English and deciding eventually that, if it was English, it was a version he had never heard before._

_Wherever the pirate believed himself to be, it definitely wasn't in Port Royal._

_A burning sensation drew his attention, and Will pulled his sleeve back from his wrist, displaying a long, bloody score that the pirate's fingernails had created during his desperate bid for freedom._

_Will idly dabbed the blood off the cut with the wet cloth that he had been using to wash the pirate's fevered body.  He swirled the cloth in the basin of tepid water sitting next to him before reaching again for the pirate's face.  "It's all right, Jack.  Just stay calm."_

_As if on cue, Jack screamed, the sound ripping through Will's heart like a million pieces of glass, and attempted to lurch upright.  The blacksmith again restrained him, begging, pleading and praying that the pirate would recognize him.  When the pirate finally ceased his struggling again, Will found that he had somehow maneuvered behind the other man in an attempt to hold Jack's arms still and was now holding the pirate much as Ana-Maria had._

_Elizabeth was sleeping in their bedroom, and Will knew that the cries wouldn't have woken her.  For the first four days of the pirate captain's stay in their house, every cry had brought them abruptly back to consciousness and to his side, but they had found, somewhat to their dismay, that the body could get used to anything, and exhaustion was a heavy task-master.  Will was only awake now because Rachel, the young maid, had come to fetch him when the pirate started showing signs of violence.  Now Rachel sat in his room, watching Elizabeth, waiting for Will to tell her that the trouble had passed._

_"Jack, you're safe . . .everything's fine . . ."  A more violent shudder wracked the lean man's frame, and Will tightened his hold, the front of his body becoming slick with sweat as the heat from Jack's fevered body transmitted itself to him._

_The pirate captain suddenly went limp in Will's arms, only the small vibrations caused by his shivering assuring the blacksmith that he hadn't succumbed at last to the fever and the injuries that crisscrossed his body._

_"Jack?  Are you still here?"  Will regretted using the phrase even as he said it.  The pirate hadn't been 'here' in any real sense of the word since they found him in the old forge with Almorte.  Still, it should get some response if the pirate was still conscious.  If he wasn't conscious, then Will would go back to bed and see if he could catch a few more hours worth of sleep._

_A shiver crawled along Will's back and the small hairs on his neck stood on end as the pirate captain laughed, the sound low and mirthless.  "Go 'head 'n' leave me . . .allus leave me . . ."_

_Will tightened his grip again, his heart dropping as he realized that the other man had lost a significant amount of weight.  It was hard enough getting him to drink in his semi-lucid moments . . .getting him to eat was going to be impossible.  "Jack?  Jack, I'm not going anywhere, not until you're better."_

_The pirate continued as though Will hadn't made a sound.  "Managed t' turn both generations on ye, ye did, Jack Sparrow . . .Jack bloody Sparrow . . .bloody, bloody Sparrow . . ."  The pirate cried out and twisted again in Will's arms, succeeding only in turning his head so that his fever-bright brown eyes could stare at Will._

_"Turn both generations . . .both lef' you, Jack Sparrow . . .lef' ye t' die . . .should o' jus' acq . . .acquiesced . . .oh, God, 't flamin' hurts . . .hurts . . .bloody cold . . .cold-'earted bloody bastard Jack Sparrow should o' jus' died . . ."_

_Will fought the urge to weep as he finally managed to lock eyes with the badly injured man.  "No, Jack . . .you didn't turn anyone against you, and none of this is your fault, none of it, Jack . . .please, please just keep fighting . . ."_

_"Ye raised . . .good kid, Bill . . .damn good kid . . .better'n Jack bloody Sparrow could o' been t' ye . . .honor'ble . . .not too 'telligent, b't . . .honor'ble . . .not . . .bloody killer . . .bloody damned killer . . .damned bloody Sparrow . . .too young . . .too young 'n too stupid . . .turned ye and killed ye . . .should o' died . . .wi' San . . .earlier even . . .saved ye 'n . . .God th' trouble . . .hurts . . .so damn cold . . ."  The shivering increased in intensity until Will's own teeth were nearly vibrating with it, and the blacksmith attempted to grab the blanket and wrap it around the pirate without releasing him.  He could feel Jack's heartbeat despite the shivers, almost too fast for him to tell individual pulses apart, and it worried him._

_"Jack, it's me, it's Will, and stop talking like that, Jack.  You're alive and you better damn well stay that way."_

_"Will . . ."  For a moment, the haze seemed to lift from the pirate's vision, but just as quickly as it left, it returned.  "Will Turner . . .lef' ye, Jack Sparrow . . .lef' th' killer t' die . . .lef' ye t' die . . .finish it, Jack Sparrow . . .feel it . . .cold . . .hurts . . .should o' died . . .goin' t' die . . .fini' 't . . .cold . . ."_

_Through the violent shudders that were wracking the pirate captain's body, Will could feel Jack's heartbeat, feel the throbbing that was almost too fast to follow, feel it falter, hesitate, stop . . .and continue, more erratic still, threatening to halt again and never resume._

_This couldn't be happening.  He had _not_ lived through seven days of hell on earth for the pirate to stop fighting now, to die thinking he had been abandoned by the man who was holding him as tightly as was humanly possible._

_"Jack, don't you dare stop fighting!  I'm here, Jack, I'm right here, I have you and I'm not letting you go.  You just damn well keep fighting, Jack Sparrow.  If I could take back what I did I would, but I can't, and if I could trade my life for yours I would, but I can't, so you just damn well keep fighting for yourself, Jack, but know I'm here.  I'm always here, Jack, always here if you need me."_

_The shivering decreased in intensity.  "Not goin' t' leave me . . .don' hate me . . ."_

_Will restrained himself from crying with relief and gratitude that something he had said had apparently reached the pirate.  "I'm not going to leave you, Jack.  I'll always be here if you need me . . .you just have to call, Jack, and I'll come.  Do you think you can do something for me, Jack?"_

_The pirate shifted, pressing his still-trembling body closer to Will's.  "So damn cold . . .cold 'n' hot 'n' _hurts_ . . ."_

_"I know, Jack.  Jack, I need you to drink this for me, all right?  Can you do that, Jack?"_

_Will used his left hand to slowly raise the cup to the pirate's mouth, managing to get the man to swallow almost two gulps before he choked and started struggling again against the hold that the blacksmith had on him with his free hand.  Will quickly set the cup down and enveloped the pirate in the same tight bear hug he had used before, relieved that the man's pulse had slowed to something closer to normal._

_"It's all right, Jack.  I have you . . .it's Will and I have you and I'm not letting go and I'm not going to leave you . . .all you have to do is call, Jack . . ."_

_Will continued to rock and hold the injured man until the pirate lapsed back into unconsciousness._

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Jack?  Jack, come on back now, captain."  Ana-Maria pulled her captain closer to her, worried about the shivers that were racing up and down his body.  Finding no other evidence of fever, she decided that he must really just be cold, despite the warmth of the night, and pressed her body still closer to his.  "Jack?  You with me?"

"Ana-Maria.  Hello, love."  The female pirate grinned, unable to see her captain in the dark but relieved just the same.  Relieved . . .and thrilled.  Though she tried not to let it show, she had been rather hurt that first a dead woman that she had never heard about and then Will were apparently of a higher priority in the pirate captain's psyche than she was.

"What did I miss, love?"  His voice was low, nearly dripping with exhaustion, and she almost regretted waking him despite the fact that he had been talking in his sleep, usually a sure sign that any rest he found wouldn't be truly restful.

"Just Brian finding out that promotions can come in more than one way.  Seems the men at the garrison want him to take over in Hallson's place.  You need to talk to him tomorrow, if you get the chance.  He idealized you and Norrington for a very long time, and now that James is dead, he just has you to turn to when he isn't sure what to do."

"Me 'n' mutinies don't mix very well, love.  Is the lad sure he wants me helpin' him decide how to act?"

"Yes, Jack.  He needs you.  Now go back to sleep."

"Sounds good."  Ana-Maria gently traced circles along the pirate's back, waiting until his breathing had become rhythmic and steady again before allowing herself to surrender to sleep.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

_Will wandered around another turn in the corridor, finally admitting that he was, indeed, completely and utterly lost as he came face-to-face with a solid rock wall._

_This hadn't really been a part of his plan._

Hello?  You still awake?_  Will didn't _like_ asking the sword for help, but then again, he also didn't like wandering around like a fool, and if the sword would help him find his way back to his cell he wouldn't complain too strenuously._

I do not sleep.  I am not mortal.  _Will couldn't help but grimace slightly as the words formed in his mind._

Well, I'm thrilled for you, really I am.  However, I also seem to be incredibly lost.

That is not my fault.  If you had waited for Marcus . . .

_Will mentally cursed the sword, forgetting that it could still hear, brought back to awareness of the fact by a jolt of pain through his chest and head.  _That was rather unnecessary.  All I want to do is find my way back.

You should have killed the girl.

_Will felt his mouth turn up into a sneer as he again randomly began making turns, hoping that eventually he would find something that looked familiar._  She's my daughter.  I don't kill my family.

Oh, but you will, Will Turner.  You cannot escape it.  If I wished it, I could drive you to take the lives of not only your daughter, but your son and your wife and your mangy friends as well.  _The sword hilt seemed to pulse faintly under Will's hand._

I will not kill my family, and Jack would take exception to being referred to as mangy.

_The sword didn't respond immediately, and for a moment Will thought it might have a limit that it had crossed.  Instead, it continued, its 'voice' softer, more creative and more dangerous than Will would have believed possible for an inanimate object a week ago.  _I think you will kill him, Will Turner.  He is too dangerous.

_Will stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.  _What do you mean?  Jack is a pirate, but a comparatively harmless one, at least to people like me.

Twice bound by blood and promise.  I do not wish to see a third time.  You belong to me and to me alone.

_Will attempted to ignore for the moment the fact that he was talking in his head to a sword and that it was being more possessive about him than any human being he had ever known._  I have no idea what you're . . .talking . . .about.

No?  It's right there, buried and attempted to be forgotten, but still there.  Two promises, two bonds of blood . . .I will not lose you, Will Turner.  You belong to me.

I _belong_ to myself, to my family, hell, even to Jack, more than I will ever belong to you.  _Will waited for a response, but the sword was, for once, mute._

_Its silence didn't last nearly long enough for Will's comfort as he paused at a fork in the corridor, deciding to go right simply because he had gone right last time and left felt too much like backtracking._

You really do not understand what I am telling you.

_Will laughed softly, the sound echoing eerily through the deserted hallways.  _I understand well enough.  You want me to kill my family, and when you've run out of those, you'll start on my friends.  Pirates aren't as easy to kill as helpless children, you know.

_A sound echoed through his head that could only have been laughter._  Oh, aye, a pirate don' e'er let on tha' he c'n die, or tha' he c'n hurt.  _The heavy accent quickly dropped away._  We own one pirate, Will Turner.  To kill or take another would not be that hard to do.

Why do you care?

Blood is a powerful bond.  A man's word is a powerful bond.  Three is a number heavy with power, Will Turner.  My goddess is one of three, the three who create, preserve, and destroy, only to begin the cycle again.  Brahma, Vishnu, Kali . . .my lords . . .so far away . . .

_Will stopped again, blinking in surprise.  His sword was absolutely _not_ mourning the fact that it was a fair distance from its homeland and its gods . . .it absolutely was not . . ._

You yourself believe in the power of three . . .or you did, at one time.  I do not understand your concept of three beings in one . . .my Kali is not the same as Brahma, or Vishnu, or even Shiva, though they are lovers.  Yet still you recognize that three is a powerful number.  Blood and promises and three . . .

_Will ignored the sword, hoping that if he didn't think an answer, it would stop talking.  All he had wanted was directions from it in the first place . . .if he was going to get into a deep philosophical discussion, he would rather have it be with Elizabeth, who made sense, or Jack, who didn't but could still lead him to see things in a new light._

If you meet him again, you will kill him.

I absolutely will not.

You will.  We will.  We are one, you and I, and we will kill every last one of them, all who strive to pull you from your destiny.  It is preordained.  Why not make it easier on yourself?

I.  Don't.  Kill.  My.  Family.  Or.  Friends.  _Will emphasized each thought carefully, hoping to drive the point home with the sword and convince the small voice of self-doubt that was beginning to take root._

Why?  _Will stopped dead again, unnerved by the question.  Why?  Because . . .because it was wrong._

Why is it wrong?  Your daughter will die anyway.  It will spare her pain.  Sparrow has no claim on you.

I thought you were just telling me that he has almost as much claim to me as you do.

I own you, Will Turner.  You are mine, and we are one.__

_Will kept his mind as blank as he could make it, hoping that the sword would take that as a hint that the conversation was over.  He sighed in frustration as another branch in the corridor confronted him._

Go left.

_Will wasn't sure if he should trust the sword or not.  _Why?

I wish to be near my brothers again, and if you follow my directions, you will find yours.

_Will hesitated again before turning left, deciding not to taunt Nerla any further in the hopes that the sword would not taunt him._

                                    *                                   *                                   *

_Elizabeth closed the door to the small cabin, smiling at the young pirate . . .Edward, that was what she had called him . . .who was looking at Will's two children with something akin to fear in his eyes.  His wife had asked the man to watch them for a few minutes while she helped Will get cleaned up._

_"Will . . .I've missed you so much . . ."  Elizabeth moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, temporarily heedless of the blood that was seeping off of his shirt and onto hers._

_For a few seconds, Will kept still, his hands at his side and his eyes closed, waiting for the dream to dissolve and reality to reinstate itself . . .for the bloody damned sword to invade his thoughts again, urging him to kill her . . ._

_When nothing happened, he slowly raised his hands, pulling her against him in an embrace that must have made it hard for her to breath.  This was real . . .Elizabeth was real and she was in his arms and he was free . . .everything was real . . ._

_Everything.  There hadn't been a free moment to really process everything that was happening, had happened, and now that there was, he really didn't want to._

_"Will, it's all right."  The blacksmith realized that he was shaking, his breath coming in shuddering hitches that couldn't possibly be sobs . . ._

_"Will, let's get you out of these clothes.  I brought clothing for you, from Port Royal."  Elizabeth's fingers started working at the buttons on his shirt, slipping on the blood that coated him.  His blood . . .Jack's blood . . ._

_"I killed him."  He was still trembling, but he was no longer crying, and that was an improvement.  Not having his voice break as he spoke would be the next step._

_Elizabeth's fingers stopped, her eyes rising to meet his, full of sympathy and love.  "Who?"_

_"Jack."  The sympathy and the love didn't disappear, but concern and fear now warred on her face._

_"Jack is still alive, Will."  She finished unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it gently off his arms, running one hand lightly over the healing slash across his chest before moving to find another bandage for his arm and water to help wash the blood away._

_"He wasn't.  Where do you think all the blood came from?  On him, on me . . .it isn't just mine."_

_"Will, what happened to you?"_

_"Would you believe me if I told you they stabbed me through the heart with a possessed sword that tried to convince me to kill my family and succeeded in getting me to kill my . . .my friend?"  He wasn't ready yet to try to explain to her that Jack was family, as well.  He still had to explain to himself how and when it had happened . . .and he had a strange suspicion that Jack would want to know something about what he had said._

_"You aren't a killer, Will.  What happened?"_

_"I was trying to kill him.  I was trying to kill him, and he disarmed himself, and I put my sword to his chest, and he was pushed, and then he was bleeding and couldn't breath and he died."_

_Elizabeth abandoned her search, again enveloping him in her arms.  "How did he come back from the dead?"_

_"I didn't get to choose . . .I claimed him and they didn't let me choose . . .so I got away, and the gods sent him back."_

_Elizabeth nodded emphatically, again moving away to grab a cloth, dipping it water and using it rub the bloody fingerprints off of his chin and from around his ear.  "Then that settles it.  You didn't kill him."_

_"What?"  Too much had happened in too short a time for him to even attempt to follow her logic._

_"If it was about choosing, and they brought him back, then your choice was not to kill him.  If it had just been your right to choose that freed you, they would have left him dead."_

_"Since when did you become an expert on how gods think?"_

_Elizabeth shrugged.  "Jack disarmed himself?"_

_"He threw his sword at my feet and told me that if I wanted his life or his sanity, it was mine by right.  He said . . .he said he couldn't fight me . . .even when I was trying to kill him . . ."_

_"He trusts you, Will.  He trusts you and he cares for you and that's the closest you'll ever get to him actually saying the words.  That's as close as you'll get to a promise from him, and you repaid his trust and gave your own promise.  You value his life as highly as your own.  You chose not to kill."_

_"Promises . . ."  Will stared at Elizabeth, who simply stared back, a small frown appearing on her face as he looked down at the blood on his chest, trailing one finger through it.  "Blood and promises . . ."_

_"Will?"_

_"Nothing, Elizabeth."  He looked up, forcing a smile.  "Help me get cleaned up so we can go save the children."_

_She returned the smile.  "Save poor Edward, you mean."_

_Will allowed her to bandage his arm and help him change, content in her company, looking forward to time with his children, forcing himself to forget what the sword had said._

_After all, only Elizabeth could see mutual unspoken promises in his killing the pirate captain._

_                                    *                                   *                                   *_

Will woke with a start, the dim gray light of early morning on his eyelids, the feel of Elizabeth's arms around his chest extremely comforting.

Three times bound by blood and word . . .

Three times he had promised Jack that he would be there if the pirate needed him, and each time his blood and the pirate's had mixed, the first two times in small amounts, the last time in a tide of crimson that should have seen them both dead, with promises and blood shared both ways.

It was absurd . . .it was insane . . .it should have happened before now, if that was the case . . .

Then again, Jack hadn't gotten himself into any real trouble since they had defeated the Brotherhood, and though building a new life was stressful, it was hardly life threatening.

As for sanity and insanity . . .well, where Jack was concerned, it was best not to probe too deeply.

"Will?"

"I think I know what's happening . . .well, we knew that yesterday, I mean _why_ it's happening . . .he called . . .he didn't even know what he was doing, but he called . . ."

Elizabeth laughed softly.  "You might want to try being more coherent when you tell Jack and Ana-Maria."

Will laughed, as well.  "It's morning.  I'm going to go to the shop, tell Robert that I can't be in today, and then I'll come back and try to explain to Jack . . .try to figure out exactly how it works, how well it works . . ."

"Would you be adverse to having breakfast first, giving Robert a chance to get to the shop, and letting poor Jack sleep as long as he needs to?"

Will grinned, already climbing out of bed and grabbing his clothes.  "Slightly, but I can see your point."

Elizabeth climbed out of bed as well, dressing quickly and quietly and making her way to the kitchen.  Will followed her, hesitating at the door to their bedroom, looking up and tilting his head to one side.

They were simply his memories, times he had tried his best to forget, looked at in a different way.  It was very possible that he would have remembered on his own, that having Jack actually under his roof and in need of his understanding would have pushed him to remember . . .

"Thank you."

Where the gods were concerned, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Responses to Reviews:

Pip3:  I'm glad you like the little psychic connection.  I was worried about it, considering it wasn't in the original plans, but it seems to be working out okay, so yea.  Yep, the closer they are and the stronger the emotion one of them is feeling, the better reception the other gets.

Rat:  Don't get retinal burns on my account.  ;-)  I didn't rewrite it, since most people seemed to like it the way it was.  I hope you enjoyed the update.

Endril McMerlyn:  I'm glad you think that the connection is believable.  As I've stated several times, I was worried about it, but if everyone thinks I'm handling it well, it can stay.  Glad you liked the last chapter.  Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

JackFan2:  Calc is cramping everything, and no matter how hard I study, it doesn't make any more sense.  My guy friend was right, I must be masochistic to be putting myself through calc and biology at the same time.  As for the muse, as this decidedly long chapter (which is actually two unfinished scenes shorter than the muse wanted) shows, he decided to wake up again for a little bit.  Glad you like the link.

Hollow-Ambitions:  What dictionary do you have?!  I swear I looked through all mine and couldn't find a definition . . .Well, thank ye for that, even if the definition makes about as much sense as my own half-formed idea of what angst is.  Glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one.

Ginny-Star:  Little ones have to learn eventually . . .and it is so very amusing to think of exactly how Jack would go about teaching them . . .he he . . .Glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope this one was enjoyable!

Erinya:  You've got it!  I hope this chapter helped to make sense of the link . . .I hope this chapter made sense at all.  Glad Brian ranks up there with 'Don't Kill Jack' (everyone always says that . . .), that's a big compliment for him!

Cal:  Jack's reaction to the link, which was supposed to be in this chapter, is still unfinished and is in the next one, as I thought you guys would appreciate an update.  He'll be feeling better, too.  I'm sure that Jack was relatively gently when explaining things to his namesake . . .so maybe just a _little_ bit scarred . . .and he gets to share the scarring with his sis, so that's even more fun!

Starzangel:  Thanks for the compliments, and as for where I'm going with this, I thank ye for the faith you have in me, and the muse is kind of giving me an answer, so it should work out all right.  *crosses fingers and hopes*

Zinnith:  I know, headaches are the worst possible kind of pain, because you can't ignore it, it's right there in your head and everything seems to make it hurt worse . . .*shivers* . . .definitely not fun.  Thanks for the mutant-hamster explanation, it makes such perfect sense and I was cracking up as I read it!

Liquidiamond:  Thanks for writing in, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter.  Hope that you liked this one as well.

Nikara:  I hope I explained the link in this chapter . . .I tried to work with what the muse grudgingly gave me.  Poor Brian _is_ in trouble.

Saerry Snape:  Thanks for the explanation of Sandman, and where exactly can I find this cliff to throw RL over?  It really needs to take a fatal fall . . .maybe then it will understand what mortality is . . .

Szhismine:  Again, I hope this chapter helped explain the link thing, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Erin:  Thank ye for the compliment, and I hope I lived up to your expectations.

Lavender Wonder:  Of course Jack corrupted the little ones!  He couldn't resist the temptation . . .I'm really hoping this chapter explains the link to everyone's satisfaction . . .hopefully . . .maybe . . .

L'Morgan:  Thanks for the kind words!  I hope you liked the update.

Lunatic:  Me?  Like to torture Jack?  *looks innocent*  Others (you) like to read it?  *pretends to look horrified*  No!  I'm glad you like my humor.  Sometimes people in RL don't understand it, but at least in these stories everyone seems to understand.  As for where the story is going . . .sometimes I really wonder about that, too . . .

Camlost:  Thank you, and I'm sorry I upset you by killing the _Pearl_!  Thank you for forgiving me and continuing to read, and I hope you enjoyed the update.  As for Elizabeth . . .of the main charries that I have, I find her the hardest to write.  I try, and if I'm doing something wrong, just holler and I'll see what I can do.

Rinkufan:  I'm glad you're still 'hooked and hanging' . . .I should think of a tag-line for myself . . .Anyways, back on topic, the link has an important part to play now that my muse has finally convinced me that it should stay (for a bit) and attempted to provide me with a plausible explanation (which I attempted to relay to you wonderful folks in this chappie).

Snow-Angel222:  I'm sorry you're so lost!  I really try not to lose people.  *whimpers*  Hopefully, this last chapter will help to explain the link.  As for who San is, she's a girl from Jack's past.  He had a concussion.  He was hallucinating in the boat.  He still has a concussion, though it's slowly getting better, so he still hallucinates occasionally.

Kayden Eidyak:  Glad you think it was spiffy, and this last chapter hopefully explained the origin of the link (key word, hopefully).  As for things going as planned, in stories or in RL . . .maybe we should just stop planning . . .it would make it much easier to handle the plans getting ruined . . .

Lady Sandry:  The friendly fluff got booted to next chapter because A) this is already absurdly long and B) it isn't done quite yet and I thought you guys would like a chapter this weekend.  I'm glad you liked the sword scene in AToM . . .I'm rather partial to it, myself . . .;-)

BrokenSkye:  I understood the joke, it was just for the first split second after I read it I had a little paranoid stint before I started laughing.  Sandra and Jack's story is still a ways in the future . . .oh, man, this story is going to be so bloody long . . .As for not admitting it hurt, I've tried to hide that I have a migraine before and I have watched several friends and family members try to hide them as well, and once it's obvious to others that you're hurting you just give up and attempt to find the deepest, darkest, quietest corner you can to curl up and die in.  I guess Jack might have made a second go at hiding that he was hurting, though . . .he _is_ Captain Jack Sparrow . . .

Eledhwen:  Glad you're enjoying yourself!  I hope you continue to do so . . .

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  Glad you're happy and liking the kiddies.  I like the kiddies, too.  ;-)

ThePinkPanther:  *blushes*  Thanks for saying this is amazing.  Yes, school is stressful.  Hope you enjoyed the update!

Ryuu Angel:  I don't fall asleep during your reviews.  They're interesting, informative, amusing . . .I like your reviews.  Now to try to answer some of your questions.  "Savvy" is a Jack verbal tick, and they were purposefully quoting him.  Ana-Maria was just playing with him, and Brian was trying to make him feel more at ease, safer.  Besides, after spending enough time around someone, verbal tics have a tendency to start rubbing off.  A concussion is where a blow to the head causes the brain to slam against the skull and then swell.  This can lead to permanent brain damage.  Concussions are often accompanied by blurred vision, hallucinations, memory loss, lack of motor coordination (not that most people could tell in Jack, anyway), and other just not-fun things like that.  As for a lanyard, that's a lovely fun necklace-type thing (only much bigger and bulkier and more obnoxious than any necklace . . .rather like the chain on a soldier's dog tags, only made out of fabric) that we must wear our ID's from.  The ones they gave us were A) ugly and B) left red, raw patches on our necks, so I made my own that is A) captivating (to a bad extent . . .in Spanish class I often am watching lanyard, not teacher, not a good thing) and B) comfortable.  I don't like the idea of wearing my ID around my neck like a dog.  I've gone to the school for three years, and every single teacher knows me.  Oh well.  At least it's a good excuse to bring pictures of non-school-related things into school.  As for a senior, that means that this is my last year in high school.  This is the year that I apply to colleges and hope and pray that they A) admit me and B) provide some extensive financial aid.  As for the repeated phrase in chapter six . . .that's me typing late at night.  I have a tendency, when typing late, to repeat phrases two, three, four, or (only once) five times because I can't remember what comes next so my brain re-runs the sentence and types more of it than was really needed.  Thanks for pointing out the typo so that I can go and fix it.  I'm also sorry that the repeated killing of the hat bothers you.  Thanks for all the other kind comments, and I'm glad that you like my Jack.  This response is now getting exceedingly long.  I hope you can stay awake through it.  ;-)

Scanner-Cat-Scan:  Thanks for the vote of confidence on Jack and chapter nine.  As for it ending well . . .hmm . . .what's your definition of a good ending?  ;-)


	11. Chapter 11: Biding Time

Disclaimer:  I don't even own the bloody calculus book that I've fallen asleep over on more than one occasion, so who's really going to believe me if I say I own this?

AN:  Again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews!  It seems that I've now recovered most of the people who fell overboard in confusion *sighs in relief* so we can continue on-ward . . .as soon as the muse decides to come back to this point in the story and explain how he gets from here to the two places he's in . . .he really enjoys teleporting around the plot . . .*sighs again, this time in frustration*  Glad you all liked the flashbacks, I was a tiny bit worried about them.  Thanks also for well-wishes for my family and for me.  Also, this chapter isn't nearly as long as the last one . . .apologies to those who enjoyed the longer format.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 11**

Will slipped quietly through the wooden door and into the forge, his mouth twitching into a small grin as the familiar heat and humidity washed over his body, causing his throat to constrict slightly.  No rhythmic pounding of the hammer had reached his ears, so he knew that while Robert was present, he was not actually working metal and would be available to talk.

The other blacksmith occupied a wooden chair, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the anvil in front of him.  His brown hair was secured with a leather strap, and his shirt was only half-buttoned, displaying a muscular chest and shoulders with skin just a shade darker than Jack's.  A gentle scraping and sighing filled the room as he studiously worked at putting the final edge on the sword he had been forging.

Robert thought that he was six, maybe seven, years older than Will, though the other man wasn't certain of his birth date.  He had been orphaned at a young age, first taken in by the church and then apprenticed to the original blacksmith, who had left the forge to him before dying of consumption six years ago.  Robert had been hesitant to take on an assistant, let alone an eventual partner, but he had needed the help, and Brian's vote of confidence in Will's abilities and personality had finally convinced him.

The two men had gotten along exceedingly well, both of them being very able in their craft, though Robert freely admitted that Will was by far his superior when it came to making weapons.  Still, there was something . . .unique . . .exhilarating . . .about completing a sword and seeing your work in another's (hopefully) skilled hand, so the two men traded off on the sword orders, though Robert ascertained that Will took all of the exceptionally important ones.

"Hello, Will.  I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance today."  The rhythmic scraping didn't miss a beat as the man removed his feet from the anvil and leaned forward, staring hard at Will.

Will frowned slightly, wondering what Robert was getting at.  He wasn't late by any normal sense of the word, though he supposed that he was perhaps a quarter-hour later than was customary for him.  He hadn't been able to help lingering long enough to see Ana-Maria and ascertain that Jack was well.  Other than the half-day of work he had skipped last week, the day that Hallson told him Jack was dead, his record over the past four years was sterling.

Still, if Robert wanted him in the shop for some reason, he would have to stay, or arouse suspicion.  Suspicion was the last thing he needed at the moment.

"I was actually wondering if it would be possible for me to stay at home today.  Elizabeth isn't feeling well, and I don't wish to leave her alone with the children.  Jack just returned yesterday, and he's rather . . .exuberant, to say the least.  Some of the things he learned, and all under his god-father's eyes . . ."

Robert laughed softly, leaning back in his chair again.  "If you want to remain at home, Will, just say so.  I'm perfectly capable of keeping things together here.  Just work on your lies a bit more, that's all."

"Lies?"  Now Will was entirely lost.  The only thing he was lying about was the fact that he was harboring two pirates in his house, and there shouldn't be any way that Robert would know that.  They had been careful.

"Last week, when you asked for leave to return home . . .which you really don't need, you know, considering we're full partners and all now, though it was kind of you to ask . . .well, I thought something was up then.  I know you, Will Turner.  Can't be friends and partners with a man for four years and not know how he normally acts.  If it had been Elizabeth who was sick, you would've sent young Ana to tell me, and if it had been Ana who was sick, nobody would have come to tell me, unless you could flag a neighbor down.  At first I thought maybe you were sick, but you didn't look too sick . . .a bit distant, a bit glazed and shocked, but not sick, and not physically hurt.  I trusted you had your reasons, though, so I let it go at that."

Will kept his gaze carefully neutral, with a slight hint of puzzlement, the soft, rhythmic sighing becoming almost hypnotic as a worm of fear crawled through his gut.  "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Well, like I said, I let it go . . .for the afternoon.  Then I went down to the tavern, had a few drinks with the men who came in on the _Defender_, and I understood.  There was no way it could have been anybody but Hallson who told you, and at the time I thought it was a right bloody bastard of a man who tells you something like that so that you've got to try to hide how you're hurting and be strong or come out looking like you're on the wrong side of the law.  I thought about going to see how you and your family were doing, but I didn't really have any right to your grief, and I didn't want you to feel you had to hide from me, too.  So I stayed away, and you came in the next day and you seemed all right, if a little . . .distant."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."  The worm of fear was starting to blossom into something closer to panic, but he quickly distanced his mind from that emotion, remembering all too well the effect it had had the previous night on the pirate captain.

"Everyone knows your story, both of them, well, three of them, now, if you count the one that's been filtering in for the last four years that you won't confirm or deny.  We've known the first two ever since that young Captain Lanebridges was posted here.  Add to that the way you react to hangings, and the way you've been wandering around the taverns with the incoming sailors for the past year, and the way you talk about pirates as two different types, and the few comments you make about him specifically, and it isn't hard to see that you care for the man.  I could understand you grieving.  Now, though, young Lanebridges, the very same young man who was proud to be scarred defending a 'pirate and a good man', his ship makes port, and the next morning you're back to your normal self but asking for leave to stay home . . .I'm not stupid, Will.  You have him.  He made it."

"The only person I 'have' off of Brian Lanebridges' ship is my son.  I don't know who else you're getting at."

"See, now you're the one acting stupid, Will.  Any man would have figured out who I'm talking about by now, and I'm certain you have."  Robert stopped working and stood to stare at Will, taking a few idle swipes with the sword before setting it down, apparently satisfied with his work.  "I don't actually _know_ anything, of course, and you telling me that you have him would be foolish, but I still think I'm right.  Go ahead and go home, Will Turner.  I promise the shop will still be standing and your job still here when you return."

Will stood frozen for a moment, studying Robert's face, trying to discern what the other man was thinking.  Finally giving up, he nodded.  "Thank you, Robert.  I should be in tomorrow, as Elizabeth's illness is not too severe."

"Glad to hear it."  Will turned to leave, freezing with his hand on the door as Robert spoke again.  "If half of the stories about him are true, especially the ones with you and Brian in them, and if he does have your friendship . . .well, then, he has to be a fairly decent man.  I hope he's all right."

Will turned his head and nodded slowly.  "So do I, Robert."

Slipping out the door and striding off towards home, he found himself both troubled and relieved by what the other blacksmith had guessed and said.

"So do I."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack woke slowly, a disturbingly familiar sense of disorientation welcoming him back to full consciousness.  Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he attempted to decide where he was.

There wasn't any comforting rocking movement, so he wasn't aboard ship.  The bed was too comfortable and the bedding too nice for it to be any of his usual haunts on Tortuga.  There weren't all that many other places that he would willingly stay aground, and of those, Will's house seemed to be the safest option at the moment . . .

Will's house.  Jack cursed quietly in as many different languages as he could think of as everything came back.  His ship was on the bottom of the sea and the one who had sent her there was still alive and well.

That would never do.

Jack rolled over onto his back, a low moan of pain escaping as he scraped the still-healing gash along the sheets.  If he wasn't careful, it was never going to heal properly.

Ana-Maria was gone, though she had removed his boots and covered him with a blanket before leaving.  He attempted for a few moments to remember if he had woken when she left, then gave up, deciding that it didn't really matter.  Without her there to notice any wayward sounds of pain, though, it was safe to do a complete physical inventory.

His left knee ached slightly, but he was fairly certain that it was due simply to the fact that, despite his protests to Jacob, Time had decided he wasn't to be immortal, after all.  For a man in his mid-forties . . .he was fairly certain it was forty-something . . .he wasn't in bad shape, his hair still black as it had always been, very few lines on his face, his joints still all functional, not twisted and gnarled as some men's became, all of his limbs still attached . . .aye, for a man who had survived well over twenty years of piracy and was continuing as a pirate, he was in very good shape.

The stiffness and the ache would disappear with a bit of stretching and rubbing, and he would be damned before he limped on it in front of Will.  The lad had taken everything that happened during his ordeal with the Brotherhood, all that he had done under Nerla's influence, far too much to heart for his own good.

Nothing else seemed to ache in his arms or legs, and he took that as a minor blessing.  His back burned slightly, but it was a pain that was definitely manageable.

Closing his eyes again, he slowly inhaled through his nose, stopping just short of a coughing fit, sighing slightly with relief as he exhaled.  For the first few days after Ana-Maria had pulled him from the water, breathing had been difficult, his chest feeling tight and heavy, but that, too, seemed to be passing into obscurity, something that he was extremely grateful for.  Dying from lack of air on dry ground was not something he wanted to try.

His head was the last thing that he turned his attention to, slowly rotating his neck to loosen the muscles, raising his left hand to gently pat at the bandage.  Though the skin around the stitches still itched slightly, there didn't seem to be any sign of the pounding, vicious pain that had laid him out yesterday.

Yes, all in all, he would say that he was doing much better.

There had been something else, though, about yesterday . . .and something during the night . . .something that he should remember . . .something . . .frightening . . .

Jack quickly shook the thought from his mind, climbing uncertainly to his feet before finding his balance.  God, he hated being on dry land, especially since he and Ana-Maria had come together, taking away one of his major reasons for spending long periods of time in port.  He knew enough to allow his crew sufficient time to relax, and he could usually be found with Ana-Maria and other acquaintances at one or another of the taverns, but he still liked being aboard ship best, and it was a common thing for him to make his way back to the _Pearl_ to sleep so long as he was capable of doing so.

Had.  _Had _been a common thing.  The pirate captain growled low in his throat, cursing Michael again to all the varied hells he could think of.  The man was definitely going to regret his actions when Jack caught up to him.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will forced himself to stop pacing as he waited for the pirate captain to wake, rubbing his right hand up and down his left arm to help siphon off some of the tension he was feeling.  He really wasn't looking forward to trying to explain this to Jack, but Elizabeth had managed to conjure a very believable disappearing act, taking the children and Ana-Maria to market, gently but firmly telling Will that when they returned, he had to have informed the pirate captain of everything he knew about the link.

He would feel better about the prospect if the pirate captain was conscious, for one, and if he could actually still feel the link, for another.  There hadn't been a stray thought or emotion that could be attributed to the pirate since yesterday, and even then it seemed to have been more Will affecting Jack than Jack affecting Will.  As for his explanation . . .well, something that had seemed thin by the early morning light was looking more and more moth-eaten by the moment.  Without any proof . . .if madness was catching, then he had definitely caught it, and he doubted that Jack would see it any differently.

Will sighed, realizing he was pacing again.

_When_ was the pirate going to get up?!

Even as the thought flitted through his mind, Will regretted it.  Jack had never been one to just sit and laze in bed.  The only other time Will could remember the pirate sleeping much later than Will himself, the man had been half-dead.  Even after the fiasco with the brotherhood, Jack had seemed to need little sleep . . .or at least he had sought out little sleep.  If Jack was willingly resting, then it was necessary, and impatience would have to wait its turn in line.

Will stopped pacing again as a low creak informed him that the door to his daughter's room was opening.

The pirate was barefoot, but he had taken the time to find his sword and pistol and strap them to his side.  Will supposed he could take it as an affront to his honor, a sign that the pirate didn't trust him to keep him safe, but he was actually more relieved than hurt.  If Jack was conscious enough to arm himself, he was in better shape than Will had feared.

"Good morning, Jack."

  
"Mornin', Will."  The pirate hesitated a moment, staring around the main room.  "Where is ev'ryone?"

"Elizabeth took the children with her to market in an attempt to keep them out of trouble.  Ana-Maria went along to ascertain that they really _do_ stay out of trouble."

"Is that safe?"

Will smiled, recognizing the veiled concern in the pirate's voice.  "It should be.  She isn't nearly as well-known as you are, and she tends to be less . . .conspicuous."

Jack grinned slightly, the gesture reassuring Will even more that the pirate was doing well.  "I can't help it if people are naturally drawn to look at me."

"Drawn, yes.  Naturally, perhaps."  Jack didn't answer, scratching lightly at the stubble that had grown on his face overnight.  "Would you like a razor, Jack?"

"Thank you, Will, but I have one and am quite capable of shaving . . .if I wish to."  Will nodded, watching the pirate closely.

Jack stared back, a scowl slowly forming on his face at Will's continuing silence and close observation.  "Y'know, I'm not goin' t' keel over and just die on you.  Ye can stop watchin' me like that."

"Sorry, Jack."

"You should be, lad.  Have a bit of faith, won't you?  I'm still Captain Jack Sparrow, ship or no ship."

Will restrained himself from commenting on the fact that he had seen 'Captain Jack Sparrow' dead and near-death on more occasions than he would care to remember, the past night being the foremost in his mind.

"Will?"  The blacksmith drew his gaze up from the floor, forcing a grin as he tried to decide how to steer the conversation in the direction he wished it to go.  With Jack, this was going to be incredibly difficult.  "Not to interrupt your deep thinking or anything, I commend you on it, but you wouldn't happen to have anything to eat on hand, would you?"

Will mentally kicked himself for forgetting that Jack hadn't eaten anything in at least twelve hours, probably more.  "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry.  We saved some breakfast for you."

"You're sorry you saved breakfast for me?"  The soft lilt to the pirate's voice told Will that he was only playing, but the blacksmith couldn't help blushing slightly anyway.  When Jack wanted someone off-balance, he could get them there and keep them there for a very long time.

"Exactly, Jack.  I'm sorry we saved breakfast for you."  Will reminded himself firmly that he was supposed to be the one leading the conversation.  "In the kitchen."  Will grimaced as Jack turned away.

This really wasn't getting off to a very good start.

The blacksmith watched the pirate carefully as he followed him into the kitchen and towards the dinner table, where a plate with bacon, sausage, mangos, bananas, and rolls had been left next to a glass of watered-down rum.  Jack walked with his usual half-stagger, which Will knew from previous experience was part affectation and part an unconscious response to being stranded on land that didn't tilt in random patterns.  The pirate was holding his head relatively still, though, and he seemed to be limping slightly on his left leg.  Neither action would have been obvious if Will wasn't watching for signs of pain.

Will sat with the pirate in silence for a few minutes, his fingers tapping random rhythms on the table.  When Jack's attentiveness to the food seemed to have dropped to a less-than-obsessive level, he opened his mouth to speak . . .

And promptly shut it again.  Damn it, this was _not_ working.  If he had some proof that the link was still present, at least . . .

Jack swallowed, looking quizzically at Will.  "What?"

The blacksmith shrugged, dropping his gaze from the pirate's, and paused in consideration.  Jack's sleeve cuffs were unbuttoned, and the sleeves had fallen back from his arms, giving Will a perfect view of the pirate brand and sparrow tattoo.

He gestured towards the pirate's arm.  "Where'd you get that?"

Jack looked down at his arm and then back to Will, more puzzlement obvious in his face.  "Why?"

"Just curious."

The pirate continued to stare at him a moment longer before grinning and relaxing again as he tore another roll in half.  "Which one?"

"Either one."  Jack tilted his head in consideration, his grin widening as he opened his mouth.  Will cut him off before he could start talking.  "But I want the real story.  No mermaids, sea turtles, giant whales, fairies, leprechauns, gnomes, elves, or unicorns."

The pirate laughed.  "I've never used unicorns in one of my stories."

"Well, you can't decide to now."  The pirate shrugged, his face neutral, but Will thought that he could sense exasperation and . . .sorrow?  It was the first hint he had received that the link still worked, and it wasn't all that impressive.

Perhaps a stronger stimulus was needed.  "What about the _Pearl_?"

"What about her?"  Jack's face and voice displayed total confusion as he stared at Will, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic.  Keeping his own emotions as calm as he could, Will managed to catch a faint but distinct impression of grief.

"Ana-Maria said that she sank because one of your crew was a traitor."  Will realized even as he finished speaking that the pirate might take it as an accusation, a stab at his competence as captain, but he didn't get a chance to apologize or rephrase the comment.

There was no mistaking the fact that the emotion belonged to the pirate.  Will had never felt anything to be as strongly alien as the sensation that tore through his head as soon as he finished speaking.

Bloodlust.  Pure, unadulterated hatred and bloodlust.

Will knew the first stages of both emotions.  He had hated Barbosa for taking Elizabeth, for threatening his own life, but he had also felt a strange sense of pity for the man.  He had hated Almorte for what he did to Jack, but he hadn't had a chance to really dwell on the hatred, the necessity of caring for the pirate outweighing everything else.  He had hated Marcus and the Brotherhood, but that had also been tainted by pity and understanding.  The closest he had ever come to hating with the same deep, dark intensity that flooded his thoughts now was his attitude towards Nerla, but even that had been tinged with something akin to compassion as the sword lamented the loss of its homeland and gods.

Even when he hated, though, he had never felt the keen hunger for blood.  He would have gladly taken Barbosa into custody and watched the man swing from the gallows.  His sword had been aimed at the assassin's arm, not his chest.  The last words he spoke to Marcus had almost been in friendship.  Never had he felt the strong, burning need to inflict pain and cause slow death that invaded his thoughts now.

Will reacted instinctively to the foreign emotion, his own horror, repulsion, and alarm drowning out the unwanted voice.

Jack reeled back as though he had been punched, his face paling noticeably beneath his dark tan.  Before Will could think to move, the pirate was up and heading towards the main room of the house and the exit, his stagger definitely more pronounced and less affected.

"Jack, I'm sorry . . .I didn't mean that . . .Jack . . ."  Will grabbed the pirate's right shoulder and spun him around, earning a small hiss of pain as his hand landed on the still-healing cut.

"Ye 'ave no right t' be 'n m' head, Will Turner, an' if ye're goin' t' be there, ye've no righ' t' judge.  If ye're plannin' on judgin', I'm plannin' on leavin'."

"No, don't.  I know, Jack, I didn't have any right.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to.  I just wasn't prepared . . ."  Will allowed his regret to crowd to the front of his mind, coupling it with his concern for the pirate, willing Jack to understand.

The pirate tilted his head to one side in consideration before nodding and sighing.  "I'm sorry, too, lad.  Didn't know that would happen . . .What exactly _did_ happen?"  The pirate captain's voice and gaze were sharp again, though his eyes were carefully hooded.

"It's a—"

"Long story.  I know.  You never were good at telling short ones.  It's the pirate in you, even if it couldn't override that honest streak of yours."

"Three times bound by blood and word.  Nerla mentioned something about it, but I forgot, though I think I can be forgiven given the circumstances."

"If ye mean my dying and being resurrected and all that, yes, I'd say those count as extenuating circumstances."

"In the caves, with Barbosa, when I cut myself . . .I had your blood on my hand.  Some of it got into the cut.  Then, on the _Dauntless_, when you let me bandage your hand, I promised that I'd help you escape.  One time bound by blood and promises.  You probably don't remember, but a week after the fiasco with Almorte, when you were still delirious, you cut me and drew blood.  I wiped it away with the same cloth I was using to wash you down, injuries and all, and apparently some of my blood got into your veins.  You were in bad shape, Jack, really bad shape.  You were talking to my father, and you were talking to yourself, and you kept saying that you should die, that you should already be dead, and you almost did die.  I thought you'd finally given up.  I promised that I wasn't going to leave you, that all you had to do was call and I'd come."

Jack stared at a spot somewhere over Will's left shoulder, his voice a lilting whisper.  "I remember that.  Always remember when he's there.  Almost had me that time, he did.  Played me 'gainst m'self, and he almost won, but he hadn't counted on you bein' there."

"He?"

Jack raised his eyes to meet Will's gaze, grinning again.  "Death, lad.  You must've met him by now . . .or her, depending on how you're going."

Will decided not to comment, keeping his confusion at a minimum, hoping to keep the pirate from sensing it.  "Anyway, that was the second time.  The third time—"

"The third time was when you killed me.  We had enough blood there to bind an army.  The result of these three things is this . . .link."  Will nodded.  "And I initiated it by calling you."

"I would have come if I could, Jack."

The pirate smiled.  "I know you would have.  You didn't need to, though.  We made it out all right.  How well does this work?"

"I'm not sure.  Yesterday, when you were sick . . ."

"You were rather upset.  I knew there was something strange going on.  Guess I'm not quite so mad as I was beginning to think."

"The calmer I am, the easier it is to sense what you're feeling.  The stronger the emotion you're feeling, the easier it is for me to sense it."

"Can you block it out entirely?"

"I haven't tried.  I can out-shout you emotionally, though, as demonstrated yesterday and a few minutes ago, and then I can't tell what you're feeling."

"No, then I get the joy of seeing into your piratical but honorable mind.  And people think I'm insane . . .Does it just work with bad things, anger, pain, terror, horror?"

Will felt himself blushing.  "Not . . .quite."

Jack's grin slowly widened as he looked at Will.  "'Not . . .quite?'  So if I'm thinking about, say, Ana-Maria . . ."

"Jack!"  Will turned his mind towards Elizabeth to drown out the link, decided that was definitely a bad idea, thought about his children, remembered what Jack had taught his son, decided that, too, was a bad idea, and settled on seeing if he could build up some sort of bloodlust against Hallson that would rival what the pirate captain felt for Michael.

The pirate captain laughed.  "This is definitely going to be interesting."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"You're certain it's him?  Absolutely positive, beyond a shadow of a doubt, willing to stake your life on the fact that it's him?"

Michael watched the commodore pace, relaxing in the upholstered chair across from Hallson's desk, his right foot resting on his left thigh and his hands folded over his knee.

"I'm positive it was him.  It's hard to forget a man that you've killed . . .or thought you had killed.  Besides, he had his whore with him."

Hallson stopped his frantic pacing for a moment.  "Whore?"

"Aye, only female on the crew, spent all her nights in his cabin . . .can't think what else she might have been, but his personal whore."

"Did you recognize any other crewmen with them?"

"They weren't with any other crewmen.  They were following a boy."

Hallson resumed his pacing.  "Boy?  What did he look like?"

Michael shrugged.  Why should Hallson care what their guide looked like?  "Dressed like a cabin boy, brown hair with red highlights, well-tanned . . .I don't know, he looked like any other sailor's whelp."

"Turner's whelp.  Damn it, this is all Lanebridges' fault . . .I knew the boy was insane, but not this insane . . .let's me get him for treason, this does . . .oh, aye, try to frighten me, the little upstart bastard . . .try to take my position . . ."

Michael listened with growing concern as Hallson continued to talk to himself as he paced.  When Michael first agreed to help the commodore bring in Sparrow, he had found the man to be obnoxious and paranoid, but not out-and-out insane.

"What are we going to do about Sparrow?"

Hallson brought his head up, though he didn't stop his pacing.  "Kill him, of course.  Public hanging.  Yes, that would do.  People don't come back from the dead when their necks are broken."

"He doesn't come back from the dead anyway.  He's completely human . . .the damned luckiest human, when it comes to help from the Sea, but human nonetheless."  Michael was really starting to doubt the wisdom of coming to Hallson.

"You'll help me see to it, of course, and I'll pay you for it.  Once I have his body actually in hand, I'll give you twice whatever I gave you last time."

Michael grinned and uncurled himself from the chair with cat-like caution.  Twice what he had gotten before for taking care of loose ends.  This he could handle, even if it did entail working for a man who seemed to be steadily losing whatever sanity he had once had to paranoia.

"When and where?"

"At the Turner's house, tonight, when they'll all be there . . .yes, perfect, when they're all there . . .maybe even catch Lanebridges with them, in the act, consorting with known pirates . . ."

The mercenary let himself out of the office and nodded to the guard who stood outside the door.  Going after a pirate captain that wanted his head he could handle.  Listening to a man who was descending deeper and deeper into madness with each passing moment, though . . .

That was something else entirely, and definitely not something Michael was up to doing.

Responses to Reviews:

Ginny-Star:  *blushes*  Hmm, I guess I do have a lot of reviews.  I'm glad you liked the little flashback sequences, as I had a lot of fun writing them.

Aratfeniel:  Yes, that was definitely an exceedingly long chapter.  I'm glad you like the concept . . .it took some mental limbo to find it . . .

Elf-Vulcan:  Thank you, both for saying you like the stories and for praying for my family.  I'm very grateful.

Hollow-Ambitions:  *blushes exceedingly hard*  I have readers who talk about me on AIM?  Who wish to see my fics on the big screen?  Who think I've written it better than people could act it?  Wow.  I've never been so flattered in my life.  I'm glad you like the second memory.  I'm rather partial to it, m'self.

JackFan2:  I can't quit.  I tried to, but I was going even more insane than I already am, so I'm continuing, and will probably finish the story . . .the muse is going to make it exceedingly long (he gave me a bit of insight on the way home from the football game . . .rather like getting run over by a mental semi, it was) . . .we're only, like, a third of the way done here.  *sighs*  Man, this epic is going to last the whole school year at this rate . . .*ponders* . . .This could be good . . .

Rinkufan:  Losing TV shows is horrible, too.  If they canceled CSI, the only show I watch but that I watch obsessively, I would probably decide enough was enough and never get out of bed again.  Yep, you seem to understand the link thing fairly well . . .I'll be evolving the idea throughout the story, and hopefully I won't lose anyone . . .

Empress Ariana:  Glad that you understand and weren't bothered by the length!  Thanks for the vote of confidence in my reasoning abilities.

ScannerCatScat:  Oh . . .so sorry . . .about the name . . .forgive me?  About the request about a good ending and what defines one . . .this could be complicated . . .what the muse is seeing could be construed as a good ending, or a bad ending . . .can't say any more, it will give spoilers . . .

Nikara:  I'm so glad it makes sense!  Thank you for the compliment, and for the prayers.  I think they're helping . . .*crosses fingers and prays herself* . . .

Startide Risen:  Yeah!  Teachers can definitely be twisted and evil . . .my calc homework is currently staring at my back . . .and will continue to do so for a while yet . . .I liked writing the flashbacks, it was fun to re-immerse myself in my old plots!  It gave me a chance to do the Will and Elizabeth scene without having to change my other fic, which is good, and I'm glad you liked it.

Soappuppy:  Oh . . .I . . .stupid feel . . .I know that verb thing . . .have been missing it in all fics . . .Why didn't someone shout at me before?!  Damn you, silent letters in the English language!  I'll be careful from now on, and I'll go fix it eventually . . .kind of wrecks the meaning of the sentences, hmmm?  Glad you liked it enough to go back and re-read it, mistakes and all!

Lavender Wonder:  I'm sorry about your friend!  One of my clarinetists got into a car accident, rolled the car, tore up her foot pretty badly . . .If these things don't stop happening, I'll never set foot inside a car or near a road again.  I'm glad this cleared things up, though!  It really is strange, though, how three is such an important number across so many different cultures . . .*ponders* . . .

Stacca:  Oh, yeah, novel on the way . . .after this epic is done . . .Thanks for reading, reviewing, and linking!  I miss the _Pearl_, too . . .

RosePetal2001:  Thank you for your vote of confidence and prayers.  I plan on keeping writing in an attempt to keep what remains of my sanity.  Whether the plot will work or not is still a toss-up.

Cal:  Yes, it was very long.  I couldn't decide where to cut it, so I just left it long.  Yes, Nerla is creepy . . .and knowledgeable.  Hope you liked Jack's reaction . . .hope it is believable . . .I liked that first flashback, too . . .I liked them all, actually . . .then again, I'm not really an impartial judge here . . .

 Ferntree:  Thank you for reading and for the compliments!  I like the pictures, too.

Zinnith:  Yes, at the moment, writing is sanity . . .well, more sane than reality, at least.  Your review makes perfect sense, and I'm flattered that I almost made you cry.  *ponders last sentence*  I don't think that came out quite the way I wanted it to, but you should get the gist of it.  Good luck on your original fic!

Erinya:  Isn't the logical realm of the supernatural so much fun to play in?  I'm glad you like my Elizabeth.  She'll have more parts to play as the fic progresses . . .*sob* . . .this fic is going to be so incredibly long . . .so complicated . . .so many plot details to figure out . . .*collects self* . . .All better now.  Glad you liked the first flashback.

Erin:  *grins with relief*  So glad that I managed to live up to expectations!  I'll try to do it again.  *looks worried*

Pirate Gyrl:  Well, the ending of this fic isn't looking like it'll leave anyone in suspense . . .get me and my bloody muse lynched, but not leave anyone in suspense . . .Thanks for the vote of confidence and the sympathy.

Starzangel:  I'm really glad you think that this is a good explanation, and that you liked the flashbacks!  I have a rough idea where the story is heading . . .several destination points, but no connecting dots at the moment, but we'll figure it out eventually.

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  Glad you liked it!  Hope you like the more!

Szhismine:  Glad you like the chapter.  I hope this clear up lingering confusion about the link.  As for the uprising, the men want to get rid of Hallson and put Brian in charge, only they haven't asked poor Brian yet if he _wants_ to be in charge.

Lunatic:  Nope, didn't plan it this way.  Was sitting, wracking brain trying to figure out how the link was possible, when I realized there were three stories and that three is a common number in superstition.  A quick 'net search assured me that basically all cultures share some superstition about three, and it's usually a good number or a magic number, not a bad number (like four), so I had my explanation.  I'm glad that you think it's smart.  I was rather worried about it.  Sorry about your computer.  I would definitely cry if mine died.

Belia:  I'm glad that you found my work.  Your entire review makes sense.  I know I have grammatical stuff to go back and fix, but proofing is hard for me, and taking the time to go back and post revised chapter even harder.  I swear I'll do it eventually!  Really!  I might go back eventually and do fics in the time frames between my stories.  At the moment, this is eating all my spare time, and it is looking to be exceedingly long . . .*sigh* . . .I really hope you guys like epics.

Ryuu Angel:  I love your reviews!  Really, I do!  I'm going to major in veterinary medicine if I ever get into college, so we're kind of similar in majors.  I'm fairly certain 'trigony' is a word . . .maybe . . .if it wasn't, it is now.  Rambling is good!  So far the only major problem I have in Spanish is remembering what the verbs mean . . .I can conjugate them all nice and lovely, but I have no idea what they are, and I'm fairly certain that problem isn't related to lanyard-staring . . .fairly certain . . .As for your humor, I have a friend who truly has the strange humor market cornered.  I had her and a bunch of Center friends over to watch FotR once, and it was her first time, and she cracks up laughing when Frodo gets stabbed.  She was practically dying when Bilbo does his little transformation and tries to grab the ring from Frodo.  Boromir's death scene can never be looked on the same again (though she didn't laugh during the extended version . . .the extra little clips with Aragorn earned him her respect).  Then, in TTT, when Theoden is mourning Theodred . . .she was okay for the first part, then starts cracking up as he's crying and gives as an excuse 'they dragged the scene on too long'.  _That_ is an odd sense of humor.  I was trying to make some of the Will/Nerla interaction slightly amusing, so it's all right to laugh at it, so long as you got the serious aspects, too, which I'm sure you did.  Also, about the hat . . .it cost HOW MUCH?!  God, I could buy a half-year of college with that and I've killed it twice now . . .*sobs* . . .How can I resurrect it and sell it?  Okay, response is again getting exceedingly long.  If I missed something, hit me with it in a review again!


	12. Chapter 12: Changing Fortunes

Disclaimer:  I own laryngitis . . .this year keeps getting better and better . . .*sigh* . . .I wouldn't want to own Will or Jack at the moment because they'd definitely wind up with whatever I've got, and I wouldn't wish it on Michael . . .well, maybe Michael . . .

AN:  I'm sick again!  I'm _never_ sick, and the fact I'm sick so often this year is downright horrible.  I can't talk.  Do you know how hard it is to communicate without speaking?!  Everyone is like, "Oh, you can't talk, yes or no questions, right?" and then proceed to ask definitely _not_ yes or no questions.  Other than that, things are looking a bit up.  My grandma is definitely a candidate for the procedure, and they think it'll do a lot of good for her.  *crosses fingers*  My uncle isn't doing so hot, but the doctors expected he wouldn't be, and while it's hard, it's getting easier to comprehend the fact that Death chases everyone and is eventually going to catch them, whether I claim them as family or not.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 12**

Michael slowly rotated his sword, nearly mesmerized by the glint of light off the well-polished blade.  It was almost impossible to tell that the sword had tasted blood . . .so very much blood . . .

The mercenary rested the sword on a well-worn scrap of cloth across his knees, grabbing a vial off the table next to him.  Careful not to spill any on his own fingers, he slowly worked his way along the blade, drenching one side before turning it over, careful only to touch the hilt, and drenching the other side.  Warily folding the cloth around his sword, he gingerly set it aside to dry before dribbling a few drops of the poison into his scabbard.

After all the different poisons he had used, his scabbard was probably just as deadly as the sword itself now was . . .or as his sword _would_ be, given time to dry so that it would not be a danger to the mercenary himself.  Then all that would be needed was pirate's blood to transfer the poison and ensure Michael's own safety.

Michael had never understood the horror with which most people looked upon poisons, either on a blade or in another form.  The mercenary was intelligent enough to know that he would, at least once in his life, meet someone who was a better swordsman than he was . . .someone like Sparrow or Turner.  He had never been exceptional with a blade, and being a decent shot didn't come close to making up for it, the necessity to stop and reload making it an inefficient way to fight.

As for it being dishonorable to fight with a poisoned blade . . .Why should he be worried about something like honor, another strange concept that he had never really liked?  Besides, only the 'civilized' European fools thought it was more 'honorable' to hack a man to pieces and let him die suffering when a few well-placed cuts with a blade like Michael's would put them out of their misery very quickly.

Very quickly.  All he needed to do draw blood, and a half-hour later, at the most, the pirate would be dead.

Wolfbane . . .monkshood . . .whatever you wanted to call it, it was effective, there could be no doubt about that.  He had watched it work before, watched his opponent slow his attack as he first burned and then froze, sweating and shivering at the same time.

The first time he used the poison, he had observed as the man . . .a sailor, that was who it had been, a poor bastard of a sailor . . .retched and screamed and shivered and choked on his own spittle, begging the mercenary to end the game and kill him then and there.  It had only been minutes before the man stopped writhing, staring at Michael with panicked eyes as his breathing became shallower and shallower and finally stopped.

It had been quite fascinating, really, quite educational.  He hadn't had the opportunity to watch since then, as he refused to allow himself the joy of watching if there was even the slightest chance that it would endanger his life or his assignment.

Death might be good, but money was definitely better.

Maybe Hallson would let him watch the pirate die.

He hadn't used wolfbane on the _Pearl_, the poison being precious and his supply too limited to waste on an entire crew.  That had been a combination of belladonna and hemlock, and it had taken his entire supply to ascertain that the watch was subdued and the crew kept quiet while Michael worked.  If he had had enough, they would all have been dead before Hallson even came within range.

It wasn't quite so fascinating to watch men die from belladonna or hemlock.  Belladonna would occasionally bring about a state of madness as it started working, and more than once his victims had attacked him viciously and bitterly, believing him to be someone else entirely, some dark figure from their nightmares.  They soon stopped, though, often before he could even determine exactly who he was supposed to be, and then they merely lay on the ground, their eyes black pits with faint rings of color, until the beating of their hearts and the rising of their chests had fallen so low that life was unsustainable.  Hemlock didn't even provide the madness.  Those victims merely went from slightly ill to catatonic to dead within an hour.

No, it wasn't nearly as fascinating to watch men die that way, and they very rarely were even aware Michael was watching them, robbing him of the pleasure of seeing them realize their bitter mortality.

There were other poisons Michael used, or would like to use, given the opportunity.  His own arsenal contained toxins derived from jimsonweed, the tried and true friend of murderers for several hundred years, with the death being remarkably similar to that caused by nightshade; several from the castor plant, another one able to cause fascinating death, with first nausea and headache, then dementia and disorientation, and finally a series of seizures leading to slow death; azalea extracts, also starting with vomiting but with an added cough, ending in seizures, coma and death.

The Spanish carried tales of barbarians to the south who used a new poison, a black tar that could kill a man within seconds of contact with his blood, but was unable to even cause illness if merely left on the skin.  The mercenary had not had a chance to hunt down this new drug . . ._curare_, was that what they were calling it?  It would be a welcome addition to his arsenal.  The African barbarians also coated their weapons with a deadly poison, though it was not so effective as curare.  Michael wouldn't mind testing that one, either, or the venoms that tales said men collected from snakes in India that were as long as a good-sized fishing boat.

Then there were the toxins that caused psychosis and illness but not death.  While fascinating in their effects, they were usually of little use to the mercenary, though he kept them just in case.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Michael folded the cloth away from the blade, careful to touch only the very edges, not wanting to inadvertently touch the poison and give it the opportunity to find some nick in his own skin to crawl through.  Grasping the sword by the hilt, he picked it up and with an expert flick of his wrist sent the few extra drops that had not dried flying off the tip of the blade.  He stared at the sword for a moment, smiling slightly with satisfaction, before returning it to its sheath and strapping the sheath to his side again.

He was ready now for whatever tonight might bring.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Really, love, it isn't anything to get upset about."  Jack grinned at the female pirate, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the table as he watched her pace back and forth.  Will leaned against the wall, his arm around Elizabeth, watching the scene with fascination, keeping his mind as clear as he could so he could see what Jack was feeling.  Despite the relaxed air that the pirate exuded, and the humor that was definitely in his thoughts, there was an underlying current of uncertainty and tension that Will would never have suspected would be present.  He wondered briefly if Jack even knew it was there.

Ana-Maria stopped to stare at the pirate.  "I'm not upset."  Her eyes were worried and gentle as she stared at her captain.  "At least not at you."  Her gaze hardened as it turned to meet Will's eyes, though she still spoke to Jack.  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but ye seemed t' be havin' enough problems in yer own head lately without invitin' someone else in."

"It isn't Will's fault, love, it's mine, if you're trying to lay blame.  I was hurting and I reached for help.  As for my sanity or lack thereof, a ground can't hurt too much, now can it?"

Ana-Maria turned back to the pirate captain.  "Was it grounding that he was doing last night?  Was that helping you?"  She dropped her gaze and resumed her pacing.

Jack took his feet off the table and stood in one fluid movement, walking over to the female pirate and lifting her chin so he could stare at her eyes, no trace of pain showing on his face.  Will winced for him as he felt the echoes over the link.

"He didn't know what he was doing, love.  Things aren't going so well around here, and he was upset and worried and he fixed it once he realized what was happening."

Ana-Maria's voice was quiet and filled with pain.  "They could have told me."

Elizabeth spoke up from her place at Will's side.  "We didn't really know anything until this morning.  Will thought it would be better to tell Jack first."

Jack gently brushed stray hairs away from her face.  "Ye trust me, don't ye?"

The female pirate nodded, raising one hand to his cheek.  "Aye, Jack, I trust ye."

Will smiled as love and gratitude flooded across the link that he was carefully holding open.  Jack's head tilted slightly to the side, and he grinned.

"Then trust me to handle this.  It could be a good thing, a very good thing."  The pirate captain leaned forward, placing his head next to her ear and whispering.  "Besides, I know how to drown him out now . . .and I know how to make him stop listening."  Jack swiftly leaned closer and nipped her ear, keeping his head by hers and grabbing her in a tight hug to prevent her from slapping him.

"Jack!"  Will knew that he was blushing as he allowed his mind to fill again with anything that he thought would be safe.  The pirate was taking far too much joy in finding any way that he could to make the blacksmith feel uncomfortable.  When Will had tried earlier to return the favor, Jack just laughed at his efforts.

The pirate captain grinned at Will as he released Ana-Maria.  "Oh, aye, this is going to be so very, very interesting."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Damn him!  Damn him, damn him, damn him, _damn him_!"  Brian yanked the powdered wig from atop his head and hurled it at the blank stone walls of his quarters, resisting the urge to kick it as it bounced back towards him before settling down with a sigh and a puff of white on the flagstone floor.

"Who're we damning now, cap'n?"  The young man looked up in surprise, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the other officer leaning against the doorframe.

"Rollin.  So kind of you to knock.  I think you have a very good idea who I'm damning."

"You kind of left the door open, lad.  Not the brightest thing you've ever done.  And yes, I think I know who you're damning."

Brian sighed.  No, it definitely wasn't the brightest thing he had ever done, and James Norrington would have chewed him up one side and down the other for being careless.  His men didn't need to see their captain throwing a temper tantrum like a little child.

Come to think of it, he had been doing a lot of things lately that James wouldn't have been too thrilled with.  Maybe he should just have become a pirate and been done with politics . . .not that he relished the thought of being stranded on a deserted island, either.

"Why don't you come in and close the door?"

"Why?"

"For starters, because I still wish to damn the man, and I also wish to change out of uniform and would rather do it without the entire fort being able to see."

"Not that I think we shouldn't damn Hallson, but what exactly are we damning him for this time?"  Rollin didn't move from his place in the doorway.

"He's sending the _Intrepid_ out again tomorrow.  We'll barely have time to re-provision, and the men . . .damn it, they were supposed to get at least a weeks worth of shore duty, more likely a month.  Some of them have families.  He could take the _Defender_ out, or just send Jenkin with the ship if he doesn't feel like leaving the garrison, or he could rearrange the crews so that at least the men with families can stay ashore, but do you think he listens to me when I try to tell him this?  I swear the man hates me."

"Then you'd be right.  And I wouldn't change out of uniform, lad.  You can't go down to the Turners' tonight."

Brian slowly drew himself up to his full height.  "Who are you to tell me where I can and can't go?"

"You can't go tonight to see the Turners.  Not if you value your life.  It will be much easier if you simply stay in the fort, lad."

"Don't refer to me as a lad, Lieutenant.  I am your superior officer, and as of this moment I am acting only as a superior officer.  Come in and close the door."  The other man did as he was told, apparently completely unperturbed by the change from camaraderie to icy command that had taken place in the space of a few seconds.  "Now, why will my life be in danger if I go to see the Turners?"

"Hallson knows who it is you brought back with you, and he knows that he's at the Turners'."

"Who is it that I supposedly brought back with me, Lieutenant?"

"A pirate captain and his whore, sir.  That's who we pulled from the water . . .the ones who disappeared yesterday.  You had to know who they were . . .not that I'm judging you, sir.  I know you have good reasons for everything you do."

"Who told him that they were a pirate captain and a . . .whore?"  Brian managed not to choke as he forced the word out.  He pitied the man who said that to Ana-Maria's face.

"Michael, sir.  The man that the _Defender_ picked up.  I'm sure you've heard from Hallson about how the _Pearl_ was brought in."

"Aye, I have, and I heard the rumors, as well.  A mercenary, an assassin, a traitor, a murderer . . .none of the men like this Michael, though they can't seem to decide what he is."

"If I had to guess, I would say all of the above."

"How do you know these things?"  Brian slipped out of his coat as he talked, turning his back on Rollin as he began unbuttoning his shirt.  If Hallson did know that Jack was alive, he needed to warn the pirate.

"Crallon was on guard duty outside Hallson's office when Michael went to see him.  Apparently both men forgot that no matter how much a soldier on guard duty resembles a statue, they don't have a statue's deaf ears.  Lad, you can't go there."

The sound of a pistol being cocked caused Brian's entire body to freeze.  Turning slowly, he found himself face-to-face with the barrel of a pistol, Rollin's finger hovering over the trigger.

"You would shoot me to keep me here?"

"Hallson is looking for a reason to get you for treason.  He'll have it if he finds you with them.  I won't let you wreck all of the plans for a bloody pirate, sir."

Brian's hands slowly fell to his sides.  "You're one of them."

"One of who, sir?"

"One of the ones planning the uprising."

"Only since this morning, sir.  The man is a menace to himself and to us.  He needs to be gotten rid of."

"You can't keep me here at gun-point all day."

"If it means your life and our hope, I shall."

"You're mad."

"No.  _You_ are the one that they will follow, all of them.  They _trust_ you, the officers and the sailors and the soldiers and the townspeople.  You're a damn fine commander, sir, no matter how young you are, and we won't let him have you."

"Aye, so fine a commander that I find myself being held at gun-point in my own quarters by one of my own officers."

"If I didn't have a gun pointed at you, would you have stayed to hear beyond the fact that Turner and Sparrow are in trouble?"

"No."  Brian inched his hand closer to his own pistol, keeping his breathing slow and steady.

"Would you shoot me, sir?  If you do, lad, they'll never let you leave to go help your friends.  There isn't even anything that you can do.  Hallson already left with a group of soldiers from the _Defender_."

Brian's hand halted its slow movement.  "Did anyone warn Turner?"

"We didn't get the chance.  I'm sorry, lad.  I know they were your friends."

"Are.  _Are_ my friends, and don't you damn well ever say else."

The other officer didn't answer, merely staring at Brian with eyes filled with pity, compassion, and hope.

Oh, damn it, he should just have gone into piracy.  It was by far the safer profession.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Michael fell to the back of the group of half-a-dozen mounted soldiers, eyeing them just as warily as they were eyeing him.  The most blood-hungry men in the garrison, and even they shared the same mistrust of him.  It was getting downright annoying.

Hallson had seemed surprised to see the mercenary, simply gesturing him towards the others with one hand while his other wove abstract patterns in the air.  The man was definitely losing it.  Not that Michael really cared, so long as he got his pay, and his pay he would get, whether he lifted a finger or not.  This could actually be to his advantage.  He could stand back and watch the others take care of Sparrow, risking no injury to himself.

Then again, he might cut Sparrow, simply to get the pleasure of watching the man die.  It had been quite a while since he had the pleasure of simply watching, without fear of interruption . . .

"When we get there, don't even knock.  Break down the door, if you have to, but get the pirate and the whore and, if you can, Turner and Lanebridges.  Does everyone understand?"

Hallson's chosen team muttered different variations of 'yes', and the commodore nodded briefly, eyes bright, before leading the way through the deepening twilight, again muttering to himself, though no one approached near enough to comprehend what he was saying.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Jack, be careful."  Will watched with a growing sense of trepidation as the pirate captain parried blows from both his son and his daughter, the two children giggling as they pressed their 'advantage'.  The main room of the house had been basically cleared of furniture, and Will, Elizabeth and Ana-Maria watched with varying levels of concern from the doorway to the master bedroom.

"I am being careful, Will.  I won't hurt them."  The pirate flicked Ana's sword out of the way just in time to dodge a clumsy strike by young Jack.

"It's not the children I'm all that worried about."

The pirate laughed, and both children broke off their attack to stare reproachfully at their father.  "Uncle Jacky wouldn't hurt us, and we wouldn't hurt him, huh, Ana?  We're good swordsmen . . .women . . .people."

"_What _have I been telling ye for the last five years about my name, demon?"

"Sorry."  The boy grinned, lifting his sword and playful striking out at the pirate.  Jack returned the grin, dodging easily, maneuvering so when Ana again joined the fray, her blade intersected with her brother's and locked there as the pirate backed away.

For a split second, the two children stared at each other, completely confused, before they turned with a mock battle cry and jumped at Jack.  The pirate allowed them to back him into a corner, purposefully dropping his guard lower and lower until finally both children had their blades at his neck.  Will couldn't help smiling at the look of sheer delight on their sweaty, red faces as they saw that they had 'beaten' the pirate, who was staring at their swords with mock dismay as he struggled not to laugh.

"You trained them well, Will, Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Jack."

"Would you mind calling off the attack dogs now?"

"I don't know, considering I didn't set them on you in the first place, and the fact that it'll be much easier to keep you out of trouble if you're stuck in the corner, it might just be simpler to leave you there."  Will grinned as exasperation again made itself known across the link.  It wasn't nearly enough payback for everything Jack had been sending his way for the past twelve hours, but it was a start.

The sound of metal tearing free of wood sounded through the room as the door collapsed inward.  Before Will had even drawn his sword, Jack had both children in the corner and was standing in front of them, his pistol cocked in his left hand.

A soldier stepped into the room, followed closely by Hallson and six more people.

"What in God's name is the meaning of this, sir?"

Hallson smiled at him, a gleam in his eyes that Will had never seen.  "I believe the answer to that is standing in front of your two darling children, don't you?  Ah, and there's the second part, standing by your lovely wife.  My my, what company we keep, a pirate captain and a whore . . .whatever will the children learn?  Is Lanebridges here?"

Ana-Maria had stiffened perceptively, her dark eyes narrowing as she drew her own sword and pistol.  Will felt Jack's rage keenly, but he was able to return it this time with a bit of rage and bloodlust of his own.  The man had just invaded his house, insulted his friends, and seemed to be threatening his children.

"No, he isn't, and you have no right to be here.  What proof do you have that he's a pirate?"

"Have him pull back his sleeve, then, and you'll see.  Or, if you'd rather like a witness . . ."  Hallson gestured behind him, and a man stepped forward, his sword still in its scabbard but a pistol held firmly in his left hand.

"I thought I left you to die, Jack.  Or are you too good to go down with your ship?  I'm sure she misses you."

Will fought the urge to blink and reel back as Jack's hatred and bloodlust again invaded his mind, stronger, surer, more defined than before.  The blacksmith spared a glance over at the pirate, certain he must have launched himself at the traitor with the intent to tear him to shreds.

Jack merely grinned, though his eyes were hard and cold, swaying in his characteristic way as he kept himself between the children and the invaders.  "I thought it was a bit too damp and cold with the fish, is all.  Hell wasn't all that it's cracked up to be, either."

Hallson's skin seemed to pale.  "Give them up, Turner, and maybe I'll let your wife and children go free."

"You'll not have them, anyway."

"Two men against eight?  Hardly odds to stake your family on."  Will paused, staring uncertainly at Hallson and his soldiers.  He could possibly take two or three, if they weren't exceedingly well-skilled and didn't shoot, and Jack maybe two at the moment, but eight?

"Four against eight is better odds, though, is it not?"  Will glanced at Ana-Maria and Elizabeth, who had ducked into the bedroom and returned with another sword and a pistol.  He might not have caught the paranoia about locking the door, but he was far happier when weapons were within easy reach of his or his wife's hand at all times, and he was very grateful for that fact now.

Hallson shrugged.  "Take the children."

To say that chaos erupted would have been an understatement.  The soldiers divided into two groups, one facing Jack, the others fending off Will, Elizabeth and Ana-Maria as they attacked from the other side.  Will noted that the mercenary had slipped to the back, drawing his sword but doing little else.

A shot sounded, and one of the redcoats near Jack dropped, blood immediately beginning to pool beneath him.  Another blast near him told Will that Ana-Maria had also fired her weapon.  A third shot seemed to be the mercenary's weapon, but no one appeared to be hit.

For some reason the soldiers seemed reluctant to fire their own rifles, instead using them as clubs or using the bayonets.  Perhaps they feared shooting their own men.  Perhaps they still had some sort of honor.  Either way, it gave the desperate parents at least a hope that they could reach their children and keep them safe.

Will reeled back in shock as pain exploded across the link, an agony the likes of which he had only felt as he broke free from Nerla.  Ana-Maria was screaming something that sounded like definite threats to the soldiers', the traitor's, and Hallson's manhood as Jack staggered against the wall, his left hand pressed against his head as a bloodstain spread with frightening rapidity along the bandage.  A second blow send the pirate captain to the floor, the pain flooding across the link abruptly cut off, though Will could tell that the pirate still lived.

The soldier screamed in shock as Will's children both lunged forward, their swords, just as sharp as any others that Will had ever made, biting deeply into his leg and stomach.  A backhand smack caught Ana across the face, sending her flying to the side, while young Jack stood uncertainly over the fallen pirate, gazing in shock at the crimson blood on his blade as the soldier collapsed in front of him.

Will realized abruptly that Ana-Maria had stopped yelling and that the soldiers had drawn back from him, their rifles leveled and cocked.  The female pirate was slumped behind the line of soldiers, unconscious, and though Elizabeth had managed to reach Ana, both his son and the pirate captain were out of his reach.

"The people would have been furious if I killed your children, Will Turner, but if I take a murderer, well, that's another matter.  Where's Lanebridges?"

"Not here, damn you!  What the hell do you want?"

"I have part of what I want.  Take these to the brig."  One of the soldiers slowly moved away and lifted Ana-Maria over his shoulder as though she weighed nothing before backing out of the room.  Two others moved towards the pirate captain and Will's son, swiftly disarming the boy and delivering unnecessary kicks to the unconscious pirate before dragging both outside.

That left Hallson, who hadn't drawn a weapon yet, the mercenary, who had already fired his shot and missed, and a third soldier, who was bleeding heavily from his shoulder and swaying as he attempted to keep his rifle aimed at the other captives.  The sound of hoofbeats outside told Will that the soldiers who had exited previously were already heading back to the fort.

The soldier guarding them suddenly slumped to the ground.  Before Will was entirely sure what was happening, Elizabeth was in front of him, the pistol she had saved cocked and pointed directly at Hallson's head.

"Get the hell out of my house, you bloody bastard."

For a moment, the man didn't seem to comprehend what had happened.  His left hand continued to draw abstract patterns in the air as his right contracted, as though pulling the trigger on an invisible gun.  "Michael?"

"He already used his shot, and he hasn't had a chance to reload yet, have you, Michael?  Get the hell out of my house before I kill you."

The mercenary had already darted out the door.  The commodore smiled and nodded, turning as though leaving an interesting ball or political function.  "I'll see you again, I'm sure, Will Turner.  This was fun tonight, was it not?  Tell Lanebridges I know what he's up to, yes, I do, and I won't let it happen.  And people don't come back from the dead when their necks are broken and their bodies burned, now do they?"

Elizabeth stood with the pistol aimed at the door until the sound of hooves died away.

"You should have killed him."

"I would have.  It isn't loaded."

Will nodded, staring at the blood and the bodies lying on the floor of his house.  "He'll be back."

"We should leave."

"We'll get him back, Elizabeth.  I promise."

"I know."

Silence reigned as Will and Elizabeth changed clothes, helped Ana to change clothes and wiped the blood from her face and hands, and left, Will searching his mind for a safe haven.

Responses to Reviews:

Hollow-Ambitions:  Hmmm . . .Johnny would have the harder acting part, but he's also the more accomplished actor, and I think he could do it (assuming he didn't decide to change the script, character, and meaning, as he is wont to do).  I haven't gotten to see much of Orlando acting, just LotR and PotC, but he might be able to pull off Will's part.  It would a tricky bit of acting, for both men, and they'd have to complement each other exactly right to keep it from seeming forced.  I think they could pull it off, though.  Might take a couple shoots, but they could do it.

Empress Ariana:  I'm flattered.  I'm going to keep writing.  I've found I couldn't quit even if I wanted to . . .which I really don't, though it sometimes seems like I should.  Anyway, hope you like the update.

Lavender Wonder:  Glad you're getting less confused all the time!  The last chapter was supposed to have some amusing parts, to counter-act all the non-amusing parts that I've had, and of course you're special!  Can you tell _how_ Robert's going to be a good thing/problem though?  Maybe, at the end of this chapter, you have an idea.  Does the Jack Sparrow Theme Song have words that may be shared with everyone?

Christina:  Sorry?  *whimpers and hides under bed, realizes she can't type there, whimpers and hides under computer chair with keyboard*  I guess suspense/cliff-hangers can get a bit . . .annoying.  However, that's how I was taught to write.  You'll probably be more ticked at the end of this chapter . . .*the above was all in good fun—I know you wouldn't lynch me . . .yet* ;-)

Elf-Vulcan:  Oh, yes, poor Will.  Will is going to appreciate the link, though, in . . .two chapters, I believe it shall be.  Yes, he will greatly appreciate it.  Jack will appreciate it next chappie, at least a little bit.  Okay, enough spoilers.   Maybe I should stop answering reviews . . .then I wouldn't be tempted to give spoilers.

JackFan2:  I would love to be a writer on the side, but I couldn't handle the stress of writing full-time.  Sorry for making your husband doubt your sanity. ;-)  Glad you liked the humor.  It took me a bit to get it just as I wanted it.  Does this last fight scene count as an epic battle scene?  Yes, there will be several more battle scenes in the future, though.  Whether you'll like the ending of the last one . . .is not something I'm allowed to say.  The muse just woke up and is threatening me with a butcher knife if I give any more spoilers.

Belia:  When I started my first one, I wasn't even sure I'd be able to finish that.  Usually the ff plots dancing in my head have a middle, but no beginning and no ending, so imagine my surprise when two full fics came out (it was quite great).  When I started this one, it wasn't anywhere near this complex (no link, no Brian, no Hallson, no Rollin, no Robert).  Then, when the link appeared and just wouldn't go away, I cried for a few minutes, got up my courage, and turned to my interest in the supernatural for an answer.  Three is a popular number in superstition, and is usually connected with good things (four is often connected with death).  A quick 'net search confirmed that this superstition travels across myriad cultural bounds (which is quite odd), so I figured I could use it to explain my muses ramblings, and it apparently worked.  *sighs in relief*  Glad you like the story, and my Jack-talk, which is something I try to make believable.  As for responding to reviews . . .it's fun.

Cal:  After reading this chapter, do you think it's foreshadowing?  (The previous is said happily, not sarcastically, please don't get upset!)  Wow.  I seem to have inspired a great deal of loathing for my villains.  Note to self: want original villain hated, have him call strong female character a whore.  At the moment he has the upper hand, so they won't be cutting Michael into bitty pieces for a while, at least.  Glad you liked so much of the last chapter, that it was believable, and I hope you like Ana-Maria's reaction to the link.

Runaround:  Very cool!  Where I live, we basically only have small-animal clinics nearby, where I go and do mentorships (my computers suggestion for this word is 'mentor's hips' . . .gotta love Gate's . . .probably wouldn't be so amusing if I wasn't currently in Jack-thought-mode rather than sick-teenager-mode), but I've tossed around the idea of going into exotics.

Erinya:  Yes, Michael deserves to die.  He is a sick, twisted, intelligent man who enjoys death but loves money more . . .and he lives in my head . . .I'm starting to frighten myself now.  ;-)  Yep, definitely need to make that note about calling strong female characters whores gets the one who did the name-calling an excellent amount of hatred.  Glad you liked the bloodlust part, that took a bit of re-writing to get just the way I wanted it, and then I wasn't sure what others would think.  As for everyone being all right in the end . . .this is un-evolving from arc-ending . . .I'm shutting up now, as the butcher knife has now become a broadsword and is remarkably close to my jugular, with the muse whispering threats to implant it in my jugular if I don't stop with the spoilers (but I know how the fic will go now and it is such as amazing thing and I want to share my joy and insane thoughts and . . .*stab* . . .blood is very red . . .shutting up now).

ErinRua:  Hello, fearless leader!  (Bloody x-men sneaking in again . . .sorry . . .just got to re-read the comics 'cause I'm sick . . .I love Scott . . .)  Getting back to topic, I'm glad you liked the humor.  I was trying to strike a balance with humor and seriousness because the fic is going to get a lot darker soon.  Ah . . .the broadsword just became a chain saw . . .shutting up again.  As for Michael, yes, definitely a jerk, but a sane (relatively) jerk.  Hallson . . .he he he . . .I like the term 'loose cannon', yes, that is definitely what he is.

Starzangel:  Lots of writing . . .yes.  Great . . .hmmm . . .matter of opinion and taste.  Am I really that mean to Jack, that any time trouble comes he has to get hurt?  *Looks guiltily up at latest chapter*  Maybe I need to find some counseling of my own about torturing my favorite characters . . .Hope you liked the last chapter, Jack-injuring and all.

Ginny-Star:  Yeah, took me a few seconds to figure out what 'moory' was, too, but then I got it.  I can understand tired-typos very well, so it's fine.  Glad you liked the chapter length.

Tari Troi:  He didn't mean to.  He apologized.  He'll make up for it, I promise.  Please don't injure him too badly, as he is necessary to the plot for at least a few more chapters.  Hope you liked the latest chapter.

Kissravyn:  Thanks for all three reviews!  I'm glad you're impressed.  I can't wait to write the rest now that I've actually got a (semi-) workable plot in this little head o' mine.

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  Oh, yeah, the plot just keeps getting thicker . . .it's going to be a mess to unravel.  I think Jack agrees with you about the link.  ;-)

Zinnith:  Hmmm . . .they have to fight Ana-Maria for more intimate parts, as she already called dibs on cutting those off when they hurt Jack, but an ear might work . . .then he'd be sort of like Van Gough . . .not really . . .though they'd both be crazy and one-eared.  Isn't work a pain?  I have a lot of real schoolwork awaiting me . . .should probably go do that . . .don't want to, though . . .have to, though . . .can't just slack off senior year . . .

Rinkufan:  Yeah, Jack took it pretty well, but he'd already had some experience with it, and Will had just given him the mental equivalent of a sucker-punch, so he was ready to believe.  I love CSI, too . . .so much . . .though Grissom now has facial hair . . .not Grissomish, at least in my opinion, but it might work . . .

Kanaloa:  Glad.  ;-)


	13. Chapter 13: Plans and Pasts

Disclaimer:  I own far too many classes . . .and a passed calculus test (first one I've passed . . .I'm so thrilled ;-) . . .) . . .but that's it . . .

AN:  *PLEASE READ*  I have found a way to mix school and writing!  One of my classes is doing a stats project, and when I went to work mine out with my teacher I brought four questions that could be answered with responses from reviewers of my work, which thereby gives me an excuse (albeit a small one) to write the next chapter.  I can't tell you what the questions I came up with are because they might affect your answer (if anyone wishes to know I'll tell after I get responses), but I need at least twenty (20) people to respond to the following prompts (otherwise I have to choose a different topic and don't have an excuse to write, which is sad).  You don't have to submit names/pen-names/anything but a response, and I'll be very grateful if I get the twenty I need.  Okay, so the prompts.  Take the "good guys" from both the original movie and my stories (Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, Ana-Maria, Jack Turner, Ana Turner, Brian, anyone else you remember and like but I haven't put here) and list them from the person you would be/were most upset to see die to the person you were/would be least upset to see die.  Take all the "bad guys" (Barbossa, Almorte, Marcus, Daniel, Michael, Hallson, anyone else you remember and dislike but I haven't put here) and place them in order from the one you were/will be most happy to see die to the ones you were/will be least happy to see die.  If you want to tack on a few reasons for why your list looks like it does, I would be greatly intrigued, but all I need for the assignment is the list.  Crossing my fingers and hoping you guys help out . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 13**

"Robert!"  Will pounded again at the door, resisting the urge to glance around the darkened streets and see if anyone had noticed him.

When nearly a minute had passed and still no response seemed to be forthcoming, Will raised his fist to pound again.  "Robert, damn it, I need—"  Will pulled his fist back abruptly to keep from pounding the older blacksmith on the chest, his harsh whisper dying in his throat.

Robert only spared a quick glance at Elizabeth, who stood behind Will in fighting clothes holding Ana close, before dragging the trio inside his house and shutting the door.  "What's wrong, Will?"

"You were right.  I had him.  Hallson found out . . ."

"Where's your son?"

Will's fingers clenched into fists yet again.  "The bloody bastard took him.  He took all three of them, and he'll take us if he can.  You're in danger so long as you harbor me and my family."

"Not so much danger as the commodore is going to be when the men find out he took their captain into custody."

Will blinked.  "Brian didn't show up today.  He's safe at the fort."

"You said they took all three of them."

"They took my son and Jack Sparrow and Ana-Maria."

Robert stared patiently at him, the lamplight causing shadows to flicker over the other man's face.  "Who's Ana-Maria?"

"Jack Sparrow's . . ."  Will wasn't sure exactly how to describe the female pirate.  She wasn't Jack's wife, but to simply call them lovers was to diminish the truth of their relationship.  She had the pirate captain's faith and full trust and, Will was fairly certain, his fidelity, something that would have shocked him five years ago.  None of those gifts were lightly given.

"Whore?  Strumpet?"

"Bloody hell, no!  Why when people say female and pirate in the same breath do people automatically think whore?"

The other blacksmith chose not to comment, though his mouth twitched upward into a slight grin.

"I need somewhere to stay until I can find a way to get my son back."

"You have it, Will."

Will nodded, sighing.  "You realize what you're doing, don't you?  You're harboring fugitives.  You could hang for this."

"I'm not just planning on harboring fugitives.  I'm planning on assisting in the unlawful release of a criminal from jail and the formation of and execution of an uprising.  The day a man isn't safe to decide who he allows into his house is the day the leader has overstepped his boundaries, at least for me.  I've a spare room in the attic where you'll be relatively safe and unnoticeable, if a bit cramped."

"Thank you, Robert."

"Don't thank me yet, Will.  We haven't done anything yet.  Are any of you hurt?"

Will shook his head.  "Nothing serious.  Some scratches on Elizabeth and myself, and Ana had a bloody nose, but they were going after the pirates more than after us.  If you'll just let us get Ana to bed, I'll try to explain what I know."

It took a little over a half-hour to arrange the attic so that it was functional as temporary quarters and get an unnaturally submissive Ana to crawl into the mass of blankets, where she lay, blank-eyed and pale-faced.

"Ana?  Ana, honey, what's wrong?"  Elizabeth settled next to her daughter, hugging the girl and stroking her thumb along her cheek.

The girl's voice was a monotone whisper.  "They took Jack away."

"We'll get him back, Ana.  Trust your papa and I."

The girl turned her head away.  "He's scared."

Elizabeth involuntarily cut her eyes up to Will.  She had completely forgotten the twin's own 'link'.  While it was different from the one connecting Will and Jack, it was definitely strong enough to cause problems.

"I know he's scared, but he's with Uncle Jack and Aunt Ana-Maria.  They'll keep him safe, and we'll have him back before you know it.  Is that all that's troubling you?"

"The soldier . . .the one who hit Uncle Jack in the head . . .Jack and I . . .mama, we . . .we tried to keep him from hitting Uncle Jack again . . .I wasn't thinking, mama . . .I didn't mean to . . .but he didn't stop bleeding . . .and bleeding . . .mama, I don't want to go to hell!"  Elizabeth held her daughter close as the girl's rigid control broke and she sobbed, her head buried in her mother's shoulder, her small hands wrapping in Elizabeth's hair.  Elizabeth didn't bat an eye as the girl tightened her hold and a few strands separated from her scalp.

"It's all right, Ana.  You aren't going to go to hell, baby.  You're safe right here, with Papa and I, and you didn't do anything wrong.  They were the ones who did wrong, Ana, only them.  Hush, child."

"We . . .we k-k-_killed_ him, mama!  We _killed_ him, but people aren't _supposed_ to kill each other, and the p-p-priest and everyone says that people who kill go to _hell_, they said even good people like Uncle Jack who kill go to h-h-hell, and . . ."  The girl stopped speaking as harsher sobs tore themselves from her small frame.

Elizabeth rocked back and forth with her daughter, rubbing her right hand in circles along the girl's back until the sobs had diminished to small sniffles.  Only then did she pull back and brush the hair away from the girl's tear-stained face, cupping it in her hands so that the child couldn't look away.

"Ana, no matter what any preacher tells you, no matter what _anyone_ else tells you, you didn't do anything wrong.  You were protecting your family.  You were defending your home.  You shouldn't have had to, that's what your papa and I are supposed to do, but you saw the need and you responded.  Ana, are you listening to me?"

The girl gulped and sniffed as she nodded.

"Sometimes you have to kill, Ana.  Sometimes they don't leave you any other way out."

"But . . .but he's a soldier . . .like Goduncle Brian was . . .they're supposed to be . . .the good people . . ."

Elizabeth tore her gaze away from her daughter's searching one.  How did one go about explaining to a ten-year-old the differences between being lawful, being just, and being right?

"Ana, you know Uncle Jack and Aunt Ana-Maria are pirates."  The girl nodded.

"Do you think Uncle Jack is a bad man?"  The child shook her head vigorously.

"The preacher said that Uncle Jack was going to hell, right?"  Ana nodded again, her forehead creasing in bewilderment, clearly uncertain what her mother was driving at.

"Well, then, you know already that he's wrong.  God sent Uncle Jack back to us, after he and Papa broke free from the Brotherhood.  You remember that?  Is that something that God would do for a bad man, for a man that he was going to send to hell?  The preachers don't know everything, Ana, and they can't see your heart.  Your heart was in the right place, and God can see that, and that's what matters.  Do you understand?"

Ana tilted her head and bit at her lip, sniffing once more.  "Kind of."

"Think on it some more.  Do you think you can go to sleep now?"

"Yes, mama."  The girl settled down again into the blankets, pulling them directly up to her chin, taking comfort in every child's belief that if the covers are tight and they stay very still, the monsters won't be able to find them.

"Good night, Ana.  Papa and I will be here if you need us."

"Good night, mama.  Good night, papa.

Will and Elizabeth waited until Ana was obviously asleep before quickly and quietly making their way down the stairs.

"Jack doesn't have anything on me now.  If I get Hallson, the man is going to wish for a quick, clean death."

"You might have to stand behind me in line for that honor."  Elizabeth's voice displayed a cold rage that easily equaled that which Will was feeling.

Robert took one look at their faces and immediately broke out a bottle of brandy and three glasses before ushering them into the living room and settling them in upholstered chairs.

He waited until they had both taken a drink before speaking.  "Now, what happened?"

Will sighed.  "I'm not entirely certain.  Hallson just broke down my door, with a slew of soldiers.  We fought.  We lost.  He wasn't thinking, though, he sent most of his men away with Jack and Ana-Maria, probably to make sure they didn't regain consciousness before they were in the brig, and the bastard took my son.  I'll get them all back."

Robert nodded as Will downed the rest of the contents of his glass, grimacing slightly at the burn it made from his throat to his stomach.  Jack always made it look much easier.  "I know you'll get them back.  I'll help if I can.  I know the layout of the fort, and the doors for the cells are everyone's favorite when they're trying to break people out of jail."

"Half-barrel hinges."  Will slumped visibly with relief as Robert nodded.  "It could theoretically work then, whether we can find the keys or not . . .except for the fact that we've nowhere to go, and nothing to go on."

"You could see if you could—Will!"

Both Elizabeth and Robert lunged at Will as he suddenly doubled over, moaning low in his throat.

_Pain_ . . .pain and fear and confusion . . . no purpose . . .no understanding . . .pain and fear and confusion and disorientation . . .

"Will, it's all right, it's all right . . .Will, what is it?"  Elizabeth was stroking his hair, whispering in his ear, holding him tight and giving him a ground.

"Jack . . .he's conscious . . .or something . . ."  Will struggled to fight the staggeringly strong torrent, succeeding in slowly forcing it back, trying to send a sense of peace, of hope, of grounding, not certain if he was succeeding or if he was merely giving himself an opportunity to recover from the unexpected onslaught.

"It's all right, Jack.  Be calm.  We're coming for you."

As suddenly as they had come, the sensations faded, dropping to a barely-perceivable background murmur in his mind.

"Will . . .?"

"I'm all right, Elizabeth.  I'm sorry if I frightened you."  Will straightened slowly.  Yes, he was all right, but Jack?  Raising his eyes, Will met Robert's questioning stare.

"It's hard to explain . . ."

The other blacksmith shrugged.  "Did you sell your soul to the devil for it?  Sacrifice young children?"  Will felt a small smile twitch at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head.  "Didn't think so.  If it's hard to explain, then don't.  Just tell me if you figure out anything useful.  What I was saying before is word is that the _Intrepid_ has been ordered back out tomorrow.  Now, I didn't see Brian down at the tavern, and he obviously wasn't with you, so I'd say he's at the fort and knows what's happening.  If we can find a way to ask him if he could take you all on the _Intrepid_ . . ."

Elizabeth shook her head.  "We can't just walk into the fort in broad daylight, either to talk to Brian or to get everyone out, and tonight's too far gone to manage any real escape attempt."

Robert shrugged again and grinned.  "So I act as messenger.  I hunt Brian down in the fort, on pretense of a new sword or a spare part for his pistol, he manages to find a way to keep the _Intrepid_ in port another day, we break everyone out of jail, and you all high-tail it with the young captain to wherever you think you can lie low until Hallson gets what's coming to him . . .or until you can plan a way to _give_ him what's coming to him."  Will smiled at the latter idea.  He wanted Hallson's blood just as badly as Jack wanted Michael's.

"That sounds like a solid plan to me . . .at least, as solid a plan as we're going to get on our rather limited schedule.  Brian's men will respect his wishes, and if we can get out of port before anyone but him and anyone else he decides must know knows, we should be all right."  Will nodded at his own comment, trying to engender a solid faith in it himself.

Elizabeth seemed to hesitate before speaking.  "There's only one drawback to your plan."  Both men turned to her, Robert arching an eyebrow in silent question.

"You're both assuming that they'll all be in any condition to run from the fort to the _Intrepid_."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Hey, look, I got myself a flush!  Ace high, too!  Let's see what we're up against . . ."  Brian rotated his body and picked up the other set of cards.  "Oh, full house, pair of sevens, triple of jacks.  Well, it looks like the winner is . . .myself again!"

Brian grinned at Rollin, who merely stared back at him, still holding the cocked pistol.  It was beginning to make the young captain feel like a walking target.

"Not amused, mate?"  The other officer didn't answer, and Brian tossed the cards down on the table in frustration.  At least Jack could usually draw either amusement or disdain from his audience.  All Brian seemed able to do was bore the other man, first with his two-hour attempt at imitating Norrington's unflinching military demeanor and now with his attempt at humor.  At least it wasn't quite so boring dealing cards as it was standing ramrod straight and watching the barrel of the pistol meander over his body.  "Lieutenant, you have been standing there for over four hours now pointing that bloody pistol at my head, my heart, and other important regions, all of which I would like to have intact.  Could we please just agree that you win and I'm not going down to the Turners' tonight?"

"I don't want you doing anything foolish."

"Will you at least play a hand?  I'm getting rather tired of beating myself, you know."

"Lad, will you just stop it?  All I'm trying to do is keep you safe.  Why don't you go to sleep?  After all, you need to be in good condition to captain the _Intrepid_ tomorrow."

Brian fought the urge to punch the other man, reminding himself firmly that he didn't need any more scars on his body.  "Why don't I go to sleep?  Let's see, for starters, I have a pistol pointed at me, and that, for some reason, makes me decidedly nervous.  For another, my friends are in danger and instead of helping them, I'm playing cards with myself because my captor, who I might add is a traitor, is _pointing a bloody pistol at me!_"

"I'm not putting the pistol away, sir.  I don't trust you."

"_You_ don't trust _me_?  Lieutenant, I think you're a bit confused about who's supposed to be mistrustful in situations like these."

"Captain, I swear to you, we did everything we could to try to get warning to Turner, but we didn't have enough time!  I won't hurt you so long as you just remember that there's things more important than one man's life!"

"One man?  Hallson isn't going to be content with Sparrow's blood.  He'll take Will and Ana-Maria, possibly Elizabeth and the children . . .I don't find an uprising or a mutiny or whatever you feel like calling it to be more important than their lives!  Damn it, Rollin, they're my _family_."

The other officer blinked several times.  "You think he'll risk attacking Turner?  The man's well-known, well-respected . . ."

"Let me think . . .what was that charge that you said he was going to use against me . . .oh, yes, that's right . . .does _treason_ ring a bell?"  Brian couldn't help the bitter sarcasm.  He had never felt so helpless, or so guilty for being so helpless . . .

_Not true.  You felt like this before._

The young captain silently cursed the voice in his mind that threw that harsh truth out at him.  Yes, he had felt this sense of helplessness and guilt before, but at least James Norrington's fate . . .his mentor's fate . . .had been certain from the moment Will Turner and family set foot on the docks at Johnson.

Both men jumped as someone pounded on the door.

"Cap'n . . .sir . . .something's happened . . .sir . . .cap'n?"

It took Brian a moment to recognize the breathless voice as belonging to George Hardel, a redcoat that had been consistently stationed under his command for the last five years.

"Hardel, the door's unlocked.  Come in and report."

The man did as instructed, and Brian waited for his face to shift as he took in the pistol Rollin held.  Seeing nothing, he turned to face the other officer, only to find him empty-handed.  Given that there were two hands on the table, it would only be Brian's word that Rollin had drawn on him, and while that might be sufficient, it would cause more strife than it was worth.

The redcoat started talking the moment he was through the door.  Brian took some comfort from the fact that he was honestly somewhere between three and seven years older than the other man.  He was getting tired of being reminded of his young age.  "Cap'n, oh, God, I'm glad you're here, sir.  When we heard that they found the pirates at Turner's house and brought one of his kids in, well, sir, most of us feared the worst."

Brian's heart dropped to his feet.  "What did you say?"

"Word's just getting around.  Hallson took a group of men and he went to the Turner's house.  Jack Sparrow and a female were there with the Turner's.  They tried to take them by force.  Lorner and Palon didn't make it, and Reni got his shoulder torn up pretty bad.  The _kids_ killed Lorner, sir, Turner's boy and girl, they were trying to protect the pirate, or that's what everyone's saying . . .sir, things are pretty precarious here.  I won't say that I'm not glad that we leave on the _Intrepid_ tomorrow, cap'n."

The young captain spoke before he even really thought about his words.  "Hallson and I arranged it so that the _Intrepid_ leaves the day after tomorrow.  I can't honestly say as I'll be sorry to be back at sea, either.  It seems to be somewhat safer there."  Brian glared at Rollin, but the other officer seemed completely unaware of it.  "What's Hallson planning on doing with everyone?"

"He's trying to organize a man-hunt for Turner, his wife, and his daughter, but he seems to be rather short on volunteers.  He's going to hang Sparrow and the woman and burn the bodies . . .he said something about people not being able to come back from the dead if you burned their bodies . . .but none of us know what he's going to do with the boy.  I'm sorry, sir.  We all know Turner's your friend, and we know how you got that scar."

"Is that everything you know, George?  Everything?"  The younger man furrowed his brow in concentration before nodding.  "Thank you for coming to find me.  You should return to your post now . . .you do have the night guard at the moment, correct?  I wouldn't want you to be caught away from your duty."

The redcoat recognized the words as both a gentle reprimand, a warning, and a dismissal.  "Aye, captain.  Take care of yourself, sir."

Brian waited until he couldn't hear footsteps anymore before turning back to Rollin, not excessively surprised to find that the other officer had again drawn his pistol.  There had been myriad opportunities for the young captain to draw his own sidearm, but he wasn't interested in a confrontation anymore.

"I'll deal.  Help me get Sparrow, the woman, and the boy out of jail and onto the _Intrepid_, and I give you my word that I will do whatever you feel necessary to safeguard the fort and the troops, even if that is something that could normally be construed as treasonous."  Brian extended his right hand.

Rollin hesitated a moment before nodding, setting down his pistol, and shaking the outstretched hand.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

It was still dark when Ana-Maria finally returned to full consciousness, reaching up gingerly to touch the pounding knot on the back of her head.

_Why_ did they always have to go for the head?

_Because hitting someone in the arm or the leg just means you get kicked or punched, respectively._

She sat up slowly, rubbing her ears to clear the buzzing from them, gradually becoming aware that at least part of the noise was in reality, not in her head.

"Jack . . ."  She lunged towards the sound, brought up short by the feel of cold iron against her hand.

Bars.  Someone had the damned nerve to put _bars_ in her way.

"I'm all right.  'm not crying."  Ana-Maria waited as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the only illumination moon- and star-light coming down in stripes through the barred windows that allowed air circulation.

The boy had obviously been crying, was still rubbing the remnants of tears from his face, but the female pirate knew better than to press the point.  He was curled next to her captain . . .and bare-chested.

"Jack, where's your shirt?"

The boy sniffed loudly, attempting to cover it with a small cough, before answering.  "I made bandages.  I tried just tightening yours, but it wasn't working.  He was bleeding really bad, Aunt Ana-Maria, and he didn't know who I was."

The female pirate bit back the curses that flooded her mind, determined not to scare the boy any more than he had already been scared.  "It's all right, Jack.  Are ye cold?"

She wasn't exactly keen on stripping at the moment, especially given what Michael had labeled her as, but if the boy needed a shirt, she would give him one.

"Uh-uh.  Uncle Jack's warm."

Ana-Maria couldn't help but curse lightly at that fact.  "How warm, Jack?"

"Not bad-warm.  Not fever-warm.  Just warm-warm."

The female pirate sighed in relief.  "What happened while I was out, lad?"

"They put us in here and they left us alone, but neither of you would wake up.  I was worried because Uncle Jack was bleeding, so I tried to bandage it, and he kind of woke up.  I think he was dem . . .den . . .delirious, that's what papa says.  He grabbed my hand and called me Thomas, and then he said 'they're coming' and passed out again.  Are you hurt?  I couldn't reach you to help.  I'm sorry."

"I'm not hurt, and ye've nothing to be sorry for, Jack.  Ye did really well, lad, really well.  Is there any way ye could move him over here so I can see?"

"I think so.  It might take me a while, though."

"That's all right.  Just be careful, Jack."

Ana-Maria could never say exactly how long it took the boy to maneuver the pirate captain's body over so that she could reach him through the bars, each minute seeming to stretch into a minor eternity as he pulled, pushed, and panted, always careful and gentle.  She supposed she had taught the boy quite a few more words to add to his vocabulary by the time the pirate captain was close enough to grab.  A few more minutes of combined work had the pirate propped against the cell bars, Ana-Maria steadying him with one hand as the other worked at carefully pulling the bandaging from around his head.  She smiled slightly as the boy gently settled himself in the pirate's lap, resting his head on the pirate's chest.

The boy had done a good job creating his improvised bandages.  He had torn the fabric off just below the sleeves, using that as a pad to absorb blood and tying the rest of his shirt around the pad.  Most of his shirt was soaked with blood, and she had to peel her original bandage away from the pirate captain's head, trying to ignore the fact that if she squeezed blood would drip out.  Head wounds always bled badly.  It was a fact of life.

It was impossible to make out the stitches against his blood-matted hair, so she simply allowed her fingers to do the work, closing her eyes and concentrating on what they felt, cursing softly.  The lowest stitch was still in place.  The rest of them had been torn out and the gash re-opened, maybe slightly longer than before.  She hastily reapplied the improvised bandage, using both hands now, content that he wouldn't shift with the boy's sleeping weight nestled against his chest.

Ana-Maria settled against the bars behind her captain, reaching both arms through and wrapping them as tightly as she could around his chest, maneuvering one slowly behind the sleeping boy's back.

It wasn't the most comfortable position she had ever tried to sleep in, but it would work.

The female pirate jolted back to full consciousness as Jack suddenly tensed beneath her hands, and for a moment she thought that he was going to leap to his feet before he sighed and relaxed, one of his hands rising to rest lightly on the boy's back.  Morning light was streaming in through the barred windows.

"Jack?  Are you all right?"

"I can think of many less pleasant ways to wake, love."  Both pirates whispered, hoping to keep from rousing the child.

"I can think of many _more_ pleasant ways to wake than being in a cell with a boy cryin' and ye bleedin' all over the place.  Ye know, ye're supposed to keep the blood in yer _body_, not spill it all over any available surface."

"Oh?  Someone should have told me that a long time ago . . .saved a lot of people a lot of time . . ."

"If I could and I didn't know you'd pass out on me again, I'd slap you, Jack Sparrow."

"Good thing for me there's bars in the way."

"Jack, you really all right?"

"Aye, love, really all right . . .feeling pretty good for a man who just about got his skull cracked by that bully-boy in red . . ."

"Ye tore out all my stitches, y'know.  Means I'll have to redo them."

"If ye really want to . . ."

Ana-Maria frowned.  That was definitely _not_ an expected answer.  "Jack, you sure you're all right?  Soundin' a bit out of it, love, almost like you're drunk."

"Wish I was."

"I'm sure ye do.  Does it hurt too bad?"

"No . . .doesn't hurt much at all . . ."

"Don't ye lie t' me, Jack Sparrow."

"'m not . . .really doesn't hurt too bad . . .kind of feel like 'm drunk, actually . . ."

The female pirate cursed softly, shifting her numb arms in an attempt to feel for fever.  "Ye hurt anywhere but on yer head?"

"No.  You?"

"Nothing serious.  Jack . . .ye alone in that head of yours?"

Ana-Maria wished she could see his face as he replied, though she thought he would be grinning from the tone.  "No."

"How long has he been there?"

"All night.  Scared . . .thinks if he backs off I'm goin' t' go a-wanderin' on 'im . . ."

"Just scared?"

"No . . .bloody lad's plannin' somethin' stupid . . ."

"Forgive me, but that just doesn't seem to upset me overly much at the moment.  Is it him holding the boy like that, or you?"

The pirate captain shifted his head forward, seeming to just become aware of the young man cradled against his chest.

"Where's his shirt?"

Ana-Maria sighed.  "Wrapped around your sorry head."

"Oh.  That bleeding thing again . . .does fabric count as a surface not to be bled on?"

"Jack, you scared the hell out of the boy."

"Didn't mean to.  Don't remember."  The pirate captain's voice was barely audible.

"He was trying to bandage that sorry excuse of a head of yers, and ye came to, grabbed him, called him Thomas, said 'they're coming' and passed out again."

"The 'they're coming' part was not my fault.  His bloody father just about knocked me sideways with that one."

"So ye do remember."

"Not really . . .it hurt . . .'fore Will decided t' help with the pain . . ."

"Who was Thomas, Jack?  Ye mentioned him before."

"Not supposed to ask that, love . . .go to sea and the past is past . . ."

"Not when it's invading the present, it isn't.  Jack, trust me."

The silence stretched between them, building with tension, and Ana-Maria feared she might finally have pushed too far, too fast.  Just when she was about to apologize, he spoke.

"Named me Sparrow, she did.  Only nine years old, grabbin' up a bloodied street rat and takin' him home t' clean 'im up.  Said I was wild as a sparrow, jumpin' at everything.  Found more reasons later . . .someone told her that sparrows fly through storms, not above 'em or lyin' low like sane creatures, an' she said that was me, too.  That first day, though . . .first time . . .that was 'cause I was wild an' jumpy as a sparrow."

"How old were you?"  It was a safe enough prompt.

"Seven . . .least, that's what I think.  Whores ne'er were good at keepin' track o' years, and none of them would claim me.  Harder for a woman to lose a child, you know, especially if they wait for it to wean and walk so it can survive . . .well, partially walk.  None of 'em claimed Jack, though.  They all made sure I knew m' Christian name, and they'd 'elp me if it wasn't too much I was askin', but none of 'em would claim me.  Too dark-skinned to do any good for blackmail, too much trouble to keep, so she jus' left me somewhere, and I survived.  Always survived.  Good at survivin', even if I'd get m'self bloodied up."

The pirate captain stopped talking again.  He was apparently going to make this as hard for her as it was for him.  "Why were ye bloodied up when she found ye?"

"Went up against four lads bigger 'n' me.  Don't remember why.  Never stood a chance, though.  Sandra's family were the 'fallen angels' of the time, had money and fell on hard times that never got better.  San knew both sides of living, survivin' on the street and survivin' in a home, even if they had it pretty well for people in the area.  She took me to her house, bandaged me up, and asked how many people had I robbed and how long I'd been practicing.  I gave her back her necklace, properly penitent for all of about three minutes."

"And Thomas?"

"Real little one when I first saw 'im . . .only a bit over two years old . . .youngest one out o' the three o' them.  San was oldest, Anna the middle one, and Thomas the youngest.  Good kids, all o' 'em, even if they weren't the best at survivin'.  Good mum, too . . .tried t' teach 'em everything a nobleman would teach 'is kids, and she tried t' teach me whenever San dragged me along.  Never sat still long enough for her approval, but I did learn a bit of readin' and writin', picked up a bit of hist'ry an' the like.  Always escaped as soon as I could, but she knew it wasn't anythin' 'gainst her.  Real nice woman, San's mum . . .'nough problems with her own kids an' husband, an' still tried t' make sure that a street rat got fed and had a place t' call home.  Missed her when she died."

The pirate captain paused again, shifting slightly, and Ana-Maria wracked her mind for something else to ask.  "You said before that you supposed to protect them."  
  


Jack laughed softly.  "You memorize everything I say, love?"

"Only when it doesn't make sense."

"Like I said, you memorize everything I say.  Can't tell ye any more now, love.  The lad's awake."

The sound of locks being undone echoed eerily through the room, and Ana-Maria finally turned her complete attention to their surroundings, at the same time pulling away from the bars and towards the center of her own cell, flexing her hands to get the circulation going again in her arms.

The brig was large, with five different cells on the outer side of the room and five more on the other.  A small window set high in each cell allowed the occasional breeze and light to enter the cells.  The pirates and young Jack seemed to be the only prisoners at the moment, a fact which shocked Ana-Maria.  Usually there was _someone_ in the brig, a town drunk, a local ruffian, a soldier in for insubordination or the like, _someone_ . . .

The door leading out of the brig was a heavy wood, and it swung inward slowly.  The female pirate snarled and cursed quietly as Hallson strode through the opening, in full dress uniform, flanked by four redcoats.

His eyes turned to Jack first, still leaning against the bars, one arm still wrapped around the wide-eyed boy who was clinging to him with both hands.  The commodore sneered.

"How touching.  Did you know the boy killed for you?"  The pirate involuntarily flicked his eyes down to the boy before turning his cold gaze back to Hallson.  "I'm not entirely sure what to do with a ten-year-old murderer.  Perhaps he should merely swing with the two of you."

"What do ye want with us?"  Hallson walked forward, stopping in front of Ana-Maria's cell, his left hand twitching at his side as he stared at her.

"What do I want with you?  Not much, really.  I want him to die and stay dead, so that the Crown will realize how indispensable I am.  As for you . . .a whore isn't much use to me at the moment.  I suppose I could be willing to deal with you.  Give me Lanebridges and I'll consider giving you your freedom."

Ana-Maria met the commodore's gaze with blatant surprise and confusion.  "What do you mean give you Lanebridges?  I don't know who he is."

"Like hell you don't.  He brought you into port and he was at the Turners' two nights ago when you were.  Testify to such and I'll consider reducing your sentence."

"First of all, I'm not a whore, secondly, I thought I was going free if I testified, and thirdly, I don't know any Lanebridges."

Hallson smiled.  "You're not a whore?  What are you, then, a pirate?"

"Ye have no proof that I'm anything but an honest woman.  I've no brand on me, and ye've no witness to say what I am."

"I have Michael.  As for not being marked . . .you'll regret not giving me Lanebridges, woman.  You'll scream for the right to give his name before I'm through."

The commodore turned and left, his guard following, and Ana-Maria felt her heart drop as the door slammed behind him.  Turning back to her captain and the boy, she found them both staring at her, the boy with overt fear in his eyes, her captain's eyes cloaked and hooded again.

"I'm the only one who's supposed to do stupid things like that, love."

Responses to Reviews:

Shadowfax:  Thank you for all the reviews of all my stories!  I'm glad that you like them.  Don't let me keep you from completing your homework . . .I have enough problems completing mine, without guilt for someone else not getting theirs done!  Glad you like Brian, and try to get some sleep (I've found three hours is enough to remain functional for quite a long time . . .).  ;-)

Pirate Gyrl:  I'm going to finish it, it just might take a while if I want to pass calc and biology (which I most certainly do).  I'll update as frequently as possible.

Yasha:  *blushing*  Thank you.  I'll try not to leave you guys hanging too long between updates.

Empress Ariana:  I don't have it out for Jack . . .well, I don't think I do . . .*whimper* . . .oh, well.  Glad you're enjoying yourself.

Khepri:  I didn't know much about poisons until Michael decided he was going to be fascinated by them.  He's quite a scary man.  As for Ana-Maria . . .are you psychic?  You're giving spoilers for my story!  ;-)  Yeah, Jack's stressed at the moment.  Glad you like the link.

Ginny-Star:  Liz and company all wish it was loaded, too.  I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope the poison thing wasn't _too_ painfully educational.  Michael is such a strange person . . .

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  *blinks*  Not conflicting at all.  I understand.  I think everything happened that you thought happened.  Hope you enjoyed the update.  ;-)

Merrie:  Hey, that's okay, reviews are nice but not necessary.  If ye could do me the favor of reviewing this one so I could do my project, though, I'd be grateful . . .Glad you're enjoying it, and hope you like the update!

Cal:  Glad you appreciate the research efforts.  I was kind of worried it would sound too . . .preachy and information-throwing . . .but Michael wanted to brag about what he did on the _Pearl_ and show what he's planning on doing to someone in the near future.  Yes, he's a coward.  Cowards usually have good excuses worked out for themselves, though.  As for Hallson . . .wait and see.  Jack and fatherhood . . .was that a suggestion?  ;-)  The cavalry are rather mixed-up at the moment, but they're working on it.  Hope you enjoyed the update!

Lavender Wonder:  Either your brain works very well at midnight or I was overly obvious . . .maybe a combination of the two.  You have to fight Jack for the right to kill Michael, as he's rather possessive of it at the moment.  I can hear the theme song in my head—oh, the joys of being a certified (or certifiable) band geek.  Out of curiosity . . .where on earth did 'oh god, my leg' come from?  Hope you liked the update.

Rinkufan:  I like Nick and Warrick, too.  Watching CSI did make me feel better . . .though they let the girl die.  That was bad.  Only one kiddie was taken, Elizabeth managed to get to Ana after the guy backhanded her and she stumbled away from her brother and Jack Sparrow.

Tari Troi:  Wow . . .you're really very adamant.  ;-)  Um . . .don't hurt anyone too badly, hmm, as I need all the characters at the moment for the plot to move forward?

Hollow-Ambitions:  As if having someone pull their eye out of the socket with a fork stuck in it isn't gory . . .Don't kill Jack.  Right.  Forwarding that message to the muse and hoping he understands.  Silently threatened?  That's okay.  I once called my assistant principal a bastard (he was already walking away) because he said we couldn't play Speed at lunch because it was gambling.  My school is so messed up . . .Anyway, hope you like the update.  ;-)  As for this being on the big screen . . .I'm not sure what I'd do if it wound up on the big screen.  Probably some combination of ecstasy, terror, and dying of embarrassment . . .

Szhismine:  Glad you're now completely unconfused!  Yeah!  Will and Jack take turned getting hurt and killed?  Okay.  Besides, _Michael_ said he wanted to use it on Jack.  The muse won't let me tell you who it'll be used on, but you should find out next chapter, which, advanced warning, the chapter where you find out will definitely be a cliffhanger.  Hope you enjoyed the update!

Erinya:  Okay, the villains can die.  I'll inform them of that.  ;-)  As for everyone being all right in the end . . .I can't lie to you.  Someone is most definitely not going to be all right in the end.  Actually, more than one someone.  Hope you like the update.

Starzangel:  Yeah, I decided I wouldn't seek counseling for the same reasons.  Michael most certainly is a very nasty person.  I hope you like the update.

Ryuu Angel:  Go ahead and keep babbling.  'Tis amusing and informative.  Glad you liked the poison bit, that took a bit of research.  As for how I do research . . .I'm not very efficient.  I just do repeated Google searches until I'm fairly certain I've a rough understanding of what I'm trying to understand.  *looks at last sentence*  If that made any sense, I'm grateful.  As for verbs . . .we just had a Spanish test.  One page of said test was doing all sorts of fun things with translating a bunch of different types of English sentences to Spanish.  One verb was used in all of them.  I couldn't remember what the Spanish was for that one verb.  Guess what that one verb was?  To write.  I have never felt so stupid in my life.  Oh well.  Glad you liked Brian.  I love his character, too, as he's completely mine, to do with as I will.  My high school makes plans involving us without telling us, the lanyard one being another recent fiasco of theirs.  The most recent one, and I love this, is we can't bring coats into the classrooms anymore (and our classrooms are freezing, as it is getting more and more wintry here).  Why?  Because the kids at Columbine used coats to hide guns in.  If I wanted to hide a bloody gun, I could hide in my bra or strap it to my ankle or in the waistband for my jeans without needing a coat (not that I'd ever do any of those  things).  I hate my school administration.  Yes, Hallson is very hateable.  Michael is . . .something else.  Glad you like Uncle Jacky.  *snicker*  Don't quit dreaming, either.  I bet one day you'll be sailing the seven seas and playing with the dolphins.  Just keep hoping.  As for me, here's hoping you liked the last chapter, too!

ScannerCatScat:  Sorry?  Hope ye like the update, and that it isn't too cliffhangerish for ye . . .;-)


	14. Chapter 14: Scream

Disclaimer:  I have just been thinking and realized that I honestly _do_ own charries in this story!  Maybe I should claim them (not that anyone else would want them, or like anyone is going to mistake them for a cannon character).  Brian, Robert, Rollin, the kids, Hallson, and Michael all belong to me.

AN:  Thank you all for the help on my stats project!  My questions are fairly simple, though there's a bunch of other stats stuff I have now discovered I have to do with the data (such fun).  Which character is most likely to have the author lynched if his death occurs?  The almost unanimous consensus is Jack Sparrow.  (You hear that, muse?!  If you kill him, they'll kill us!)  What is the distribution of cannon versus original characters for the 'good guys'?  Which character is most likely to have a party thrown on the anniversary of his death?  Almorte seems to have won that one, though the stats are a bit more confused on this one (I really should be working on this project instead of writing this chapter, but I wished to reward you kind people).  What is the distribution of cannon versus original characters for the bad guys?  (How on earth did I forget Jack the Monkey?  He seems to have a very devoted following of not-likers.)  The rest of the stats stuff shows other relationships, and if anyone wants a run-down of the results of my project, holler and I'll give it.  It's rather interesting, actually.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 14**

"_What_ is that supposed to be, demon?"

The boy looked down at his own hand and squinted, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinized the shape he had made, the fingers curled inward at the second knuckle but his hand otherwise straight.  Then he nodded once to himself before raising his gaze to meet the pirate's.

"That would be a hammer.  A hammer can break rock, bend scissors, and tear paper, so I win."

"Exceptin' the fact that there _isn't_ any hammer in this version of the game . . .or any other version that I know of, actually."

"So?  I still win."

"No, you cheated, so I win."

"You cheat, too."

"So?  I don't get caught at it."

The boy sighed theatrically.  "All right, you win, Uncle Jack.  What happens now?"

"Well, now you would have to drink your glass of rum or brandy or grog or whatever we're playing with."

"We don't have any of those, though, and papa would be mad if I drank them."

"Your father has spent far too much time with your mother, lad.  If he isn't careful, she'll talk him out o' drinkin' altogether."

"I'm thirsty, Uncle Jack."

Jack sighed, reaching over from his seat against the bars of Ana-Maria's cell to pat the boy gently on the back.  "I know, lad.  Just try not to think about it."

"It's hard."

"The least they could have done was give the child something to eat and drink, even if they don't care for us."  Ana-Maria watched the pirate captain and the boy from her seat in the back corner of her cell, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped firmly around them.

The longer she waited for Hallson to come, the harder it was for her to think about anything but what he might be planning for her.

"He's just trying to keep you upset and guessing, love.  Don't let it get to you."

"I'm not letting it get to me."  Ana-Maria frowned, realizing that she sounded too defensive for him to believe she was telling the truth.  Jack didn't need anything more to worry about.

The pirate captain was silent for several minutes, and Ana-Maria thought that he might have fallen asleep before he spoke again.

"Scream."

The female pirate blinked, caught completely off guard.  "What?"

"When they hurt ye, scream.  Even the most sadistic bastards can only handle so much screamin' before they have to stop, and they'll think they're hurtin' ye more than they really are."

"Do ye scream?"  Ana-Maria spared a glance at the boy, seemingly frozen to his spot on the floor, his eyes wide and frightened.

"No.  I don't usually have to.  I can hide."  Ana-Maria nodded slowly.  Yes, Jack could hide.  She had seen him do it on more than one occasion.  There were places he could run to in his mind where nobody could reach him but himself.

The only problem usually being that he wasn't all that much kinder to himself than his enemies were.

"Don't ye try t' imitate me, love.  It isn't worth it.  If they hurt you, scream."

"And let them think they've won?  I don't break that easily, Jack."

"If you give him a challenge, he'll rise to it and enjoy himself in the process.  Don't make it harder on yourself than it has to be."

"So just quit before the game starts?  That's what you want me to do?  Any other gems of wisdom, captain?"  Her voice was again harsher and more sarcastic than she had meant it to be.

"Give them something.  Anything."

"I won't trade Brian.  The lad's been through more than enough in his young life, and I won't be adding on more problems for him.  He saved us, Jack."

"I didn't say trade the lad, love.  I'd say give them me, but they already have that.  I don't know.  Find something."  For the first time since he had told her to scream, a hint of emotion invaded his voice, just the barest tinge of desperation and exhaustion.

"Don't worry about me.  I'll be fine, Jack."  Ana-Maria moved forward until she could again wrap her arms around the pirate captain's chest, his right hand rising to rest on her clasped ones.

"Of course ye will be.  After all, we've still a traitor to kill and a ship to commandeer, and I won't be doin' it all by m'self, savvy?"

"Savvy."  The female pirate frowned, feeling her captain's heartbeat racing beneath her hands.  Blood loss more than likely explained it, but her own heart still constricted slightly with worry.  "Jack, you all right?"

"I'm getting rather tired of ye askin' that, love.  I'm as all right now as I was the last time ye asked, and before ye think of it, yes, the lad's still there, yes, he's still scared, and yes, he's still planning something stupid."  The playfulness in his tone offset the sting of the words.

The familiar sound of locks being opened echoed again through the brig, and Ana-Maria instinctively tightened her hold before releasing the pirate captain completely, her heart dropping to an anatomically impossible position somewhere below her feet as her breathing constricted suddenly.

Damn.  This was not a good way to start this.

It wasn't Hallson who pushed his way through the heavy door, though, and it didn't appear to be implements of torture that the officer was carrying.

Officer?  Since when did officers make personal visits to the brig without a guard?

And since when did they bring something that looked suspiciously like water and food?

"Hello there, mate.  Didn't expect to see any of Brian's men for quite a while.  What're you doing here?"

Ana-Maria frowned.  The man standing before them was, indeed, one of Brian's officers from the _Intrepid_, though she had only seen him up close when he led the group that pulled them from the water four days before.

"I'm Lieutenant Rollin.  The Captain wanted me to make sure that the boy was being well cared for, and to tell you that you won't be in here for very long."  The officer was fidgeting as he spoke, his gaze sweeping between the two pirates, barely pausing as he took in the boy that Jack again cradled to his chest.

When had the boy moved there?

"Tell Brian that we're grateful for his hospitality, as the commodore's seems to be rather lacking, and that he isn't to do anything stupid, but that Ana-Maria would appreciate a bit of a rush nonetheless."  Jack didn't move as he spoke, his eyes boring into the nervous officer's.

"Why?"

Did just the British attract fools to be officers, or was it an international plague?  Based on the French, Dutch and Spanish officers they had 'met' with using the _Pearl_ as a means for opening negotiations, Ana-Maria would guess international.

"Take a guess why.  I'll not spell it out in front of the child, but the hospitality is becoming downright cold around here."  Ana-Maria frowned again.  Jack hadn't been averse to sharing information on how to survive torture with your mind relatively intact, but now he refused to spell out what Hallson was planning on doing?

The officer stared at her for a few seconds, and Ana-Maria unconsciously lifted her head slightly higher, daring him to say anything.  "I see.  I'll give your message to the Captain, then, Mr. Sparrow, and I suppose I'll be seeing you relatively soon."

Rollin quickly shoved the food and water through the bars of Jack's cell before turning and sprinting out of the brig, the sound of locks being set dictating in no uncertain terms that they were captives, victims of a power play that they had never meant to be involved with in the first place.

"It's Captain Sparrow, mate!"

Ana-Maria laughed, realizing that her entire body was shaking slightly.  "I think you're a bit late there, Jack."

"Oh well.  I attempted.  Go on, lad, eat your fill and take a drink.  A small drink, though.  We all need water."  Jack slowly maneuvered the boy off his chest and gave him a shove in the direction of the food.

Ana-Maria waited until the boy's attention was fixed on his breakfast before daring to even whisper to her captain.  "Why didn't you tell him what Hallson is going to do?"

  
"Because we don't rightly know, and his own mind will bring up plenty of options, all of them custom-made to fit his worst nightmares.  He might even start thinkin' you're with child or the like.  Giving a hint of doom is far better when it comes to scare tactics and gaining sympathy than actually spelling anything out."

Ana-Maria nodded before turning her attention to the child.  "How's he doing?"

"The demon?  Not too badly.  It was his first kill . . .shouldn't be any whelps makin' their first kill at ten.  Too young.  So long as I manage to keep him from thinkin' about what's happened and what's happening, he'll be all right.  I'm running out of games, though.  Think I could draw a noughts and crosses board in blood?"

"Not funny, Jack Sparrow.  Ye need all your blood in your body at the moment."

"Just for the moment?"

"Jack . . ."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Brian stalked along the fort corridor, acutely aware of all the other soldiers, officers, and servants skittering around, his mind subconsciously fitting each into one of two categories—for him, and against Hallson.

He didn't really know anyone who still liked Frederick Hallson.

He _did_ know many who would rebel at the idea of ousting the man from power without the proper authority from the Crown and a real reason for doing so.

"Captain Lanebridges!  Captain Lanebridges, sir!"  Brian stopped and glanced around, locating the owner of the voice and honestly smiling for the first time all day.

"Robert.  It's good to see you, friend.  You _can_ call me Brian, you know."

"Aye, I know, lad."  Robert paused as Brian frowned in distaste at the use of the term of affection.  The young captain was really starting to hate that word.  "I won't be calling you by your Christian name in front of your men, though.  It isn't proper.  Anyways, I just wanted to talk to you about the pistol you brought me two days ago, right after you made port."

Pistol?  The only sidearm Brian owned was currently strapped at his side, along with his sword.

"I found the three parts for it that you needed.  A bit scratched up, but not too much the worse for wear, and they seem relatively eager to be joined to the other three parts of the pistol."

Did a pistol have six parts?

"I haven't gotten a good look at the other three parts, though.  You wouldn't happen to know what condition they're in?"

Brian nodded slowly, his blue eyes narrowing and his smile broadening as he figured out what the other man was babbling about.  "They should be in relatively good shape, or so I'm told, though I haven't actually had the opportunity to look at them."

"Well, when and where would you like the entire pistol back?  Or do you want the entire thing?"

"The _Intrepid_ leaves tomorrow at dawn.  If you could drop the three parts that you have at your house off in my cabin, I'll see that they're reunited with the other three parts."

"There's one rather obnoxious part that insists on being brought back into contact with the most obnoxious part and the smallest part of the other trio as soon as possible.  I don't think it's going to manage to sit still all day and all night with only your promise that it'll be reunited soon."

Anyone listening to their conversation would think they were insane.  Still, it wouldn't be possible for anyone simply overhearing a stray part to make any intelligible use of it, and Brian was watching for anyone stopping and staring.

As for Will Turner . . .the man had an overactive sense of honor and commitment.  Then again, it was his son that was being held, and his skills when it came to combat and helping convicts escape from prison easily outstripped Brian's, through sheer bulk of experience if nothing else.

"If it truly is going to be impossible for the pieces to all wait in my cabin, go ahead and have the obnoxious one delivered to the fort tonight, around ten o'clock.  Given the smallest one's age and my most obnoxious one's damage, the presence of your piece might be deemed necessary.  Your part's uses when it comes to fighting wouldn't be sneered at tonight, either."

Rollin's report had been a relief in the fact that all three of the captives were alive and conscious, but his report on the pirate captain hadn't been especially encouraging.  '_Half-coated with blood'_ just didn't help with optimism. 

"Aye, Captain.  I have a funny suspicion I'll be seeing you at the fort entrance around ten tonight."  Robert turned to walk away.

  
"Robert . . ."  The blacksmith paused.  "Thank you.  For finding those three pistol parts.  I was worried I'd never get the whole thing back together again."

"You're welcome, Brian.  You're very welcome."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Will?"

"Mmmm."

"Will, did you hear a thing that Robert said?"

"Fort.  Ten o'clock.  Save our son and the pirates and maybe get a chance to run Hallson through.  I was paying attention, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.  "I know you were trying to pay attention, but you seemed to be a bit . . .distracted.  I just wanted to make sure that you really heard everything.  Also, the running Hallson through part, I don't think Robert ever mentioned anything about that happening tonight."

"Shoot a man for a bit of wishful thinking, is that how it works?"

"Never.  Maybe slap him to put his feet back in reality . . .or maybe just kiss him.  I think that would work, too."  Will didn't respond, and Elizabeth gently raised one hand to his cheek, bringing his gaze into contact with her own.  "Will, what do you see?"

"I can't _see_ anything, Elizabeth.  It might be better to see . . .all I get are emotions, feelings, though sometimes . . .sometimes they're combined in such a way that I can almost hear words, but not really . . .Elizabeth, it's like trying to swim through a storm.  Up and down and around and . . .keeping him grounded is like trying to keep the sea from rising with the tide.  It's just . . ."

"Just what, Will?"

"He must have seen hell, Elizabeth.  There's so many layers, and in between there's so much pain and anger and . . .numbness.  He can run from everything, if he wants to.  I never thought that he was really crazy . . .even after Almorte, I thought he might have broken, but not that he was really crazy."

"Why do you think he's crazy?"

"There's darkness, all through his mind, and sometimes . . .sometimes it seems like it could have voices in it, though I can't tell.  Darkness and numbness . . ."

"Everyone has darkness in them.  You do, I do, our children do, now . . .it's not the presence of darkness, but how you deal with it that makes you sane or insane, a good man or not."

"He hides, Elizabeth.  He hides and he cloaks it with his glib tongue and his bloody infernal humor, but it's still _there_.  I can still _see_ it, for lack of a better description."

"Could you see it before you started trying to ground him?"

"No, not really . . .not nearly so clearly . . .There was grief then, but also affection and . . .an ironic humor . . .but now . . ."

"Maybe it's being caged and hurt, Will."

"Maybe . . ."  Will's eyes were unfocused as he stared at the ground, a frown tugging more and more strongly at his lips.

"What is it?"

"For the last few minutes, he's just been . . .completely off the wall.  Angry to furious to depressed to scared to angry . . .something's happening, or is going to happen."

"Do you have any idea what?"

"No."  Will shrugged, again meeting Elizabeth's gaze and pulling her into an embrace.

Elizabeth could feel her own body tense as every muscle in Will's body suddenly tightened, his head snapping up and his gaze dropping back into the distant one that she had learned to recognize exceedingly well over only two days.

"Oh, hell, no . . .calm . . .just calm . . ."  Elizabeth knew that he wasn't speaking to her, and she stepped back a bit, watching helplessly as he struggled against whatever it was Jack was unwittingly throwing at him.

"Mama!  Mama!"  The girl's voice was terror-stricken, and Elizabeth stood in front of her husband for a second more before allowing her mother's instincts to overcome her desire to shelter him.

She couldn't do anything to protect or help Will at the moment, but she might be able to comfort a scared child.

If both Will and Ana were reacting this badly, whatever was happening was bad.

"Oh, God, Jack, try to calm down . . ."  Will stumbled over to the wall, slowly sliding down it until he was in a seated position, allowing his head to fall forward as he concentrated on helping the pirate cope with whatever was happening.  He had heard Ana shouting, but he wasn't able to think clearly enough to determine what it meant other than that his son was also sending a strong distress signal.

"Jack, it's all right . . .Jack, calm . . ."  Even if the pirate couldn't hear the words, speaking them helped Will to focus his mind on what he was trying to do.

The barrage of emotion abruptly ended, not resolving but simply halting.  Will sighed in relief as his own head began to clear.

A stronger cry from Ana brought Will's head up, and he realized exactly what the abrupt cessation of transmission meant.

"No!"  Fury and worry propelled the blacksmith up to his feet, his hands clenching into fists as his eyes closed.  "No, don't you dare hide in your head, Jack Sparrow, don't you dare leave him alone with whatever's happening.  Help him, Jack.  Help my son . . ."

For a moment, nothing changed, and Will could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down his back as he concentrated on finding a chink in the pirate's mental armor.  He might be Jack's friend, might be his brother by choice, but he was a father, as well, and as a father, he had to know he had done everything he could to help his son.

Just as abruptly as the numbness had descended it receded, and Will reeled back as the pirate returned his anger, adding despair, desperation, pain, and terror knocking Will's own shields aside.

"Help him, Jack.  Help my son, and I'll help you.  Please, Jack, please."  No noticeable change made itself known through the torrent flooding across the link, and Will took that as acquiescence.  He sat down slowly again, determined to keep his part of the bargain, even if Jack didn't really know what the bargain was.

The pirate would stay with his son, and Will would stay with the pirate, and somehow they would all survive intact.  That was all there was to it.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack wrapped both arms around the boy, pulling him up from his huddle in the center of the cell.  The boy had his hands clamped over both ears in an attempt to block the sounds, but the pirate captain knew how futile that was . . .and Will had robbed him of his own method of escape.

"It's all right, lad, it's all right.  I'm here, Jack, and I promise everything's going to be all right, and Jack Sparrow is a man of his word, at least when it comes to you and your family."  The pirate captain flinched as another scream of agony and denial echoed through the brig, mocking him with his inability to even offer comfort to the either the female pirate or the child he now cradled against his own chest.

He had told her to scream.  It had been his idea.  When the first ten minutes had passed and she hadn't, he knew that she was fighting them, which only meant that when she did scream, it would be real.

Completely, totally, painfully real.  He hadn't meant to hear it.

Will wasn't giving him many options on that front.

He had heard enough screams in his life to last him through eternity, far too many of them his own or someone who he had claimed.  He didn't want to hear this.  He didn't need to hear this.

The boy was keening low in his throat, apparently hoping to drown the sounds out that way.  Jack resisted the urge to laugh.  He knew from experience that _that_ didn't work.

The pounding in his head seemed to crescendo with each dying echo, and he could feel his own racing pulse in the back of his neck, the boy's rapidly throbbing heart adding a counterpoint as Jack tightened his hold on the child.

Another cry of pain echoed through the prison, and Jack couldn't help a small howl of his own.  He wanted to help her, needed to help her, but he couldn't.  He couldn't even tell what, exactly, they were doing to her, as Michael had taken her through the heavy wood door before starting the game.

The boy suddenly came to life in the pirate's arms, twisting around to grab the pirate captain in a tight embrace around the neck, shivering and breathing in shuddering hitches, though no moisture stained his face.

For a moment, the pirate captain pulled back, panic overriding everything, and it wasn't a ten-year-old with brown hair and brown eyes that was grabbing him, but a nine-year-old boy with blond-red hair streaming water as he screamed Jack's name . . .

Will was back in his mind before the memory solidified, and the pirate captain lashed out at him even as he returned the boy's embrace.

_I hate you, lad._

_I love you, lad._

_Don't leave.  You said you wouldn't leave._

Jack Sparrow held the boy as tightly as he dared, closing his eyes as more cries ripped through his defenses like a sword through flesh.

He didn't want to hear this.

He had to hear it, to keep the boy safe.

In return, Will would be there.

And the pirate captain would make damn sure that the blacksmith knew what it was that Jack had given up for the sake of the child's sanity.

Responses to Reviews:

Jade:  Perfect.  Thank ye!  ;-)  I hope the chapter was worth the time.

Becky:  Definitely helpful.  Thank ye, too!  ;-)  Glad you like the story.

Rinkufan:  I keep winding up doing homework through Navy NCIS, but maybe I'll see it eventually.  Thanks for the lists, and as for denseness, don't worry.  You definitely don't strike me as a very dense person.  It was probably how I wrote the ending of that chapter.  I'll work on it a bit more.

Pip3:  I don't think Jack likes the head injury.  ;-)  Thanks for writing in.

Rat:  Thanks.  I rather like that line, too.  I think I'm in this to the bitter end now, unless something else unexpected occurs (which, given this year of hell, is definitely possible).

Szhismine:  I lied last time.  Next chapter you find out who gets poisoned, promise!  It would just take far too long to finish that part and post.  I figured you guys would like at least a bit more this weekend, so you didn't think I died or something.  Thanks for the lists, too!

Lavender Wonder:  I don't know about other fics, but I was running out of places for him to get hurt, and the head seemed like a nice place.  Then the background story started forming, and a head injury seemed like a very good way to have him saying things he normally wouldn't without him being half-dead and feverish.  Thanks for the lists, they were great help.  As for your song, it now runs through my head with another line that goes involves the use of the phrase 'stabbity-stab' added to what you already had.  I think you've created a monster, friend.  I've got a tune and everything for the sucker.

Merrie:  The rescuers are working on it.  It just takes a bit of planning (and muse-poking) to get the plot to that point.  I'm glad you like the link.

Soappuppy:  Nope, it isn't close to being done, either.  Barbossa was a really intricate villain, and while I didn't like him, I definitely respect the writers who thought of him and the actor who brought him to life.  Thanks for saying my fics are edible.  That brings a smile to my face.

Starzangel:  Me told.  If you want, me also share results when I finally get them.  Thanks for the lists!

JackFan2:  Thank you excessively.  Now please continue to write your own story so I can read it.  ;-)  Yes, the mind link has now definitely entrenched itself into the plot . . .I couldn't pull it free even if I tried.  Oh well.  It seems to working out all right.

Erinya:  Sorry to make you worry.  Thanks for the lists!

Snow-Angel222:  I remember you, love!  You've reviewed twice before, I think.  Thanks for sparing me and allowing me to complete my project.  ;-)

Empress Ariana:  *blushes*  Oh, by all means print them off.  If you want partially fixed-up copies, I could e-mail you the word documents.  I tried to get rid of most of the mistakes, but I keep finding more.  If you could sell them for ten bucks a prop, I would a) die of shock and b) insist you keep selling and simply share the profit with the poor starving . . .well, not quite . . .artist.  ;-)

Pirate Gyrl:  Well, I won't write any _just_ like that, as that is the only place in the plot that that scene fits, but maybe relatively similar . . .I hope you liked the update.

Ryuu Angel:  Well, so much for speed updating . . .oh well.  Thanks for the help with the assignment!  Isn't remaining unnoticed by parents difficult?  Considering when I type these things that I'm usually barely coherent, aye, trying to keep from laughing or crying or some such thing that would cause them to come investigate is difficult.  As for the swimsuits and the spaghetti straps, we have those rules, too (no shoulders may show).  My guy friend from the Center (where there is no such rule . . .such bliss, there . . .such freedom . . .when we aren't attempting to die . . .) is planning to be a neurologist.  His response to their reasoning is quite amusing.  I can't do it justice, but the gist was, "What am I going to do if I'm doing brain surgery and this big-breasted nurse walks in front of me and I've never seen that women have these _things_ that just seem to _happen_ around adolescence?  Give my patient a frontal lobotomy because I get 'distracted'?  I don't think the insurance company and the Board of Directors is going to be very keen on buying that one."  Oh, he was so great saying it!  *fight urge to laugh uncontrollably*  Oh, I understand inverting numbers and letters!  I did so horribly in computers because I have this bad habit of inverting lower-case 'b's' and 'd's', and guess what our teacher had us use time and time again?  As for being lost four out of five minutes . . .yes, that is how I normally feel, but I still managed to pass the test!  *does happy, insane dancing-gymnastic run around house*  Yes, it definitely appears if I kill Jack, I will be hunted down and slowly roasted alive.  Do you hear that, muse?!  Our lives depend on you behaving!  Okay, hope the response wasn't too horribly long or boring . . .

Aratfeniel:  Where is the story going?  It keeps shifting course slightly, but I think we've a final destination point, though I can't share it yet.  Thanks for the responses for my stats project!

Cal:  Actually, I tend to break things when I juggle.  Writing is the only time I manage it with any modicum of success.  I like little Jack . . .then again, I'm not exactly an impartial observer.  ;-)  Oh, so now both Ana-Maria and Jack have been okayed for parenthood, hmm?  Me thinks me sense a subtle hint in there . . .Thanks for the in-depth review and the response for my stats project, I love both of them!

Jigglykat:  Thanks for catching up!  I hope the wait for the update wasn't too awfully long, and good luck on your animation project!

Hollow-Ambitions:  You did it exactly right, love!  Are you sure that you're a natural blond?  ;-)  Thanks for the kind comments.

Erin:  Thank ye for the list!

Shadowfax:  Okay, don't try to fool you into thinking I've killed Brian.  Thing is, I really meant for him to have died with Norrington, but then he decided that he really didn't want to, so I let him come back.  Self-control is a hard thing to keep . . .mine keeps running away.  Glad you got your paper done.  ;-)

Lunatic:  What's going to happen next?  Things.  Two really big things with little things in the middle (I don't know what the little things are yet . . .the muse is being exceedingly stubborn . . .he didn't listen to Jack's advice in this chapter . . .).  Thanks for the list, and I like all your reasoning!

Kayden Eidyak:  Thanks for the reviews, and I hope ye can find that omelet, me friend!  I think you're thinking like a hobbit at the moment . . .Anyways, thank for the kind comments!

ElvenPirate41:  I love all your reviews.  I'm sorry about the boy who hung himself at your school.  Yes, misery does seem to seek out company.  Yes, Hallson is a bastard.  As for Brian getting a promotion . . .he really is quite young, but he gets a scene relatively soon where he talks about that and he doesn't want me giving spoilers, so I'll be quiet now.  Our marching band plumes are quite pretty . . .we just had our last football game . . .last time wearing it . . .I will not cry, no, uh-uh . . .*sob* . . .oh, boy.  Morpheus was the Greek god of dreams.  As for my disclaimer about how to make money off pirates . . .your mind is apparently much cleaner than mine, and I love your scholarSHIP joke.  I like that "Farewell to Arms" thing, it definitely feels true at the moment.  I love your 'silly blind michael.  i see an 18th century sex symbol'!  I was having a not-so-good time, and that just made me laugh (near hysterically) and feel so much better.  I've never done a poemfic before . . .it might be fun to try . . .I didn't plan the three stories to come together with the link, the link just came and the muse decided that that would be the explanation (I explain better in a few older RtR's, if you're direly curious).  Again, you made me laugh and feel better by giving me an image of a crazy rubber wig just randomly bouncing around Brian's room.  ;-)  As for the rhyme . . .it does rhyme!  I didn't even notice . . .*grins sheepishly* . . .I'm all up for sailing around the world with Jack Sparrow!  Jack is too hot to go to hell . . .filing that with the muse.  Thanks for your responses for my stats project!  As for teens being smarter than they think . . .BLOODY HELL, YES!  I've thought of ways around most of their rules . . .it just seems pointless to argue with most of them, and when they threatened to kick me out of NHS for daring to disagree with the lanyard rule and 'swearing' (do 'god-damned' and 'bloody hell' when the bnobby sitch has got me bawling in front of my bloody section by pushing all of my buttons, from 'Kaitan's dead' to 'my families dying' to 'I've wrecked the car', which was fixed so that's okay, to I can't walk straight and am trying to hack my lungs out as I attempt to argue count as swearing at an authority figure?) I just stopped for a bit this year.  I'm working on organizing school-wide protests now, so bnobby sitch can't kick me out of NHS senior year.

BrokenSkye:  People go insane sometimes.  Normally I do hate projects, but this one is actually kind of fun.  I like your character analysis of Marcus, it's fairly accurate.

Zinnith:  That's okay!  I completely understand RL getting in the way, and thanks for the lists, they came in just as I started organizing my stats, so they were in time to be included!  As for handing in papers that are slightly confused . . .don't panic.  I'm sure it'll be better than you think.  I would be traumatized for life if I killed someone, too.  As for how Jack got himself into trouble again . . .blame the muse!  It's all his fault!

Gypsy-Fire:  Okay, don't hurt Jack.  I keep telling the muse that, but he isn't listening very well.  Thank you for all the kind comments, and the help with my stats project.  As for loving calc and bio . . .I think it's a love-hate relationship at the moment . . .


	15. Chapter 15: Rescue and Loss

Disclaimer:  If I owned Jack, I think he'd want to kill me right about now . . .

AN:  I'm alive.  I've stopped hoping for anything more from life at the moment.  I'm really, really sorry, but I don't have the time to type in the results of my survey or answer reviews after this chapter if you guys want it before next week (which I'm assuming you do) but I give my solemn word three times that both will be with part 16.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 15**

"And this one?  What's this one for?"  The boy fumbled with the silver trinket, squinting his eyes to see the engravings better in the rapidly dimming light.

"That one's for strength, protection against the evil spirits.  I found that one in India, a long time ago."

The screams had mercifully stopped roughly ten minutes ago, and the pirate captain had managed to regain most of equilibrium, though his thoughts were still with Ana-Maria.  He couldn't help her, though, couldn't even know if she was still alive or if the cessation of the cries meant . . .meant . . .

Oh, damn.  He wasn't going to think about that.  He had the boy in front of him, in hand, in need of him, and he forced himself to concentrate on that, only that, pushing everything else out of his mind.

They hadn't taken the pouch that held his rings and the other souvenirs from his years of travel, and using them seemed a good way to distract the child.

That, and the fact that if he was going to die, Jack Sparrow would rather die looking the part of the legend.

"Why do you wear them in your hair?"

"Why not?"  The answer seemed to satisfy the boy, and he turned his full attention back to the circular trinket, running his fingers along the edges, sniffling slightly.

Jack dropped his hands from their work at braiding a series of beads back into his own hair and snatched the trinket from the lad's uncertain hands.  The boy jumped back, fear showing in his eyes.

"Hey, now, don' ye go doin' that on me, Jack.  Ye know I wouldn't hurt ye.  Come here."

The boy moved forward slowly, a blush tingeing his well-tanned skin.  The pirate captain reached down and with deft fingers twisted the trinket into the boy's hair, smiling slightly as the lad shook his head, his eyes cutting to the side at the unfamiliar weight bouncing against the right side of his skull.

"Now you're protected."

"What about you?  Don't you need protection?"

"I make my own protection."  The pirate captain dropped his hand into the small pile again, pulling out a ring with a wide silver band and a small green gem.  "Here.  Try this on."

The boy slipped the ring onto his right hand, his gaze darkening as the metal band promptly turned upside-down, hiding the gem, and attempted to slip off his finger.

"No problem."  The pirate captain grinned as he grabbed the ring and tied it into the boy's hair just behind and above his left ear.

The small pile diminished rapidly as the boy alternated his attention between helping the pirate braid the keepsakes into his hair and selecting a few for his own hair.  Jack grinned again as he watched the boy spin around, fascinated by the strange sensation of weights in his hair.

The opening of the wooden door that separated the brig from the outside world sent the boy careening back into Jack's arms, his momentum nearly knocking the pirate over.

His first thought as the door swung open was that it meant Ana-Maria was alive.

The second one was whether or not she would wish to stay that way.

Two redcoats held Ana-Maria upright, and Jack studied them first, refusing to let his gaze wander to her until he had determined what he could from their faces.  Both men seemed ill at ease, at least slightly nauseated.

Jack memorized both their faces.  They really wouldn't want to meet him when he had his sword and pistol.

Steeling himself, Jack finally cut his eyes down to Ana-Maria, prepared for the worst.  He fought the urge to sigh in relief at the lack of bloodstains on her clothing, reminding himself that there were myriad ways to injure someone without drawing blood.  The way she was holding her right arm as tight against her body as she could and the way her head was hanging told him, if the earlier screams hadn't, that something was definitely wrong.

"Amusing, Sparrow.  I wonder what his father would say if he saw what you were doing to his son."

Jack lurched unsteadily to his feet, staying upright through sheer force of will as the world tilted randomly a few times before finally steadying out.  He knew what Will would say about his caring for the boy.  After all, the blacksmith was the one who had insisted that the boy not be left alone to face the nightmares.

He snarled at Michael as the two redcoats unceremoniously unlocked Ana-Maria's cell and shoved her inside.  The female pirate stood unsteadily for a moment before collapsing to her knees, her breathing harsh and rapid.

"Te juro que te mataré, traidor.  Reza por una muerte rápida."  The child was scared enough, and it was unlikely that the redcoats would speak Spanish fluently enough to understand the half-growled words.  Jack had had enough bad experiences with guards, and caution dictated that he not bring unnecessary trials down on his head at the moment.  After all, he couldn't care for either Ana-Maria or Will's child if he wasn't conscious, and he doubted it would take many more knocks to the head to send him under for a very long time.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, Sparrow, or I'll be forced to cut it out.  Or mayhap I could take the boy's instead, and let you listen to him scream, as well.  I don't think you're in any position to be threatening to kill anyone, least of all me."  The mercenary stepped closer to the bars of Jack's cell, and the pirate captain returned the movement, staring hard at the other man.

"Je declaré je vous tuerai, traître.  Priez pair une marte rapidé."  The mercenary again stepped closer to the bars, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.  Jack again returned the gesture, vaguely aware of the child gripping the back of his shirt with both hands.

"Hallson got what he needed from the woman, Sparrow.  He doesn't need you anymore.  As for praying, that would imply that I believed in a God.  The only God there is is death."

Jack had never seen Michael speaking anything but English.  The fact that he knew at least the rudiments of Spanish and French was interesting . . .very interesting.

Then again, a mercenary had to understand what his employers were ordering.

Jack took a step closer, breathing the words practically into the mercenary's ear, separated only by the bars and an inch of air on both sides.  Three times was apparently the magic number, and he might as well give himself the best luck that he could in the matter.  "I swear I'll kill you, traitor.  Pray for a quick death."

The pirate captain jumped back as the mercenary's sword was suddenly free of its scabbard and thrusting through the bars of his cell.  The pirate grinned at the fury on the man's face on realizing that the same bars that held Jack prisoner also protected him from harm.

"I still win, Sparrow.  Remember that.  I've still won.  No sound will ever be as sweet as the sound of your neck breaking . . .assuming it breaks, of course, and you don't strangle slowly.  That would be almost more amusing."  Michael carefully re-sheathed his sword, and Jack noted how the mercenary took great pains to ensure that his fingers never came into contact with the blade.

"Still fighting with a poisoned sword, coward?"

Michael smiled as he turned away, striding swiftly out of the brig, his two guards following, flashing uncertain glances back towards the pirates and the child.

Jack waited until the echoes of the locks being set had died away before moving to kneel in front of the bars separating his and Ana-Maria's cell, grateful as the residual spinning in his head decreased with the change in altitude.

"Ana-Maria . . .love . . ."  The female pirate didn't answer, doubled over with her right arm carefully shielded by her body.

"Love, you need to come over here . . .Ana-Maria . . ."  There was still no response.  If looks could melt metal, the entire brig would be a heap of slag within minutes.

"Aunt Ana-Maria?"  The boy's voice was soft and frightened . . .and it brought Ana-Maria's head up slightly.

"Ana, it's Jack.  I need you to help me, Ana.  Ana-Maria, please, come help me, love."  The pirate captain purposefully pitched his voice low, allowing pain and fear to enter it.  One part of his heart rebelled at the ruse, but if it could bring a reaction . . .

"Jack . . ."  Her voice was a raspy, uncertain ghost as she turned to face him.

"Love, please come here . . ."  There was no deception in the pain, fear and need lacing his tones now.

The female pirate moved forward slowly, using her left arm to steady herself as she crawled but keeping her right tight to her stomach.  She stopped in front of him, simply staring at him, no emotion evident on her face.

"Oh, love . . ."  Jack lifted one hand and brought it slowly up to her cheek, gently brushing dark hairs away from her eyes, anticipating her reaction as his tender touch shattered the shell she had erected to protect herself.  He was ready when she closed her eyes, her breathing suddenly more unsteady and faster, ready when the tears started falling, ready as she pressed forward, drawing him as close to her as she could with only one hand and bars in the way.

"Ana-Maria . . .everything's goin' t' be all right, love . . .calm down now.  Ana-Maria, I need you to tell me what they did, where they hurt ye."  Jack felt her trembling increase, but the female pirate didn't speak or move.

"Love, let me see your arm."

Jack allowed Ana-Maria to keep a tight hold on his right shoulder, ignoring the pain that crawled along his back as her grasping fingers stretched the scab on the partially healed slash that Michael had given him.  The pirate captain had given up on having it heal properly, anyway.  Whispering all the time to distract her attention, Jack gently pulled her arm away from her chest, his mind telling him immediately what the wet but not bloody sleeve and the smell of charred meat meant, though he refused to accept it.

He wouldn't.  Michael wouldn't dare.

Jack slowly peeled her sleeve away from her wrist, his lips pulling back from his teeth and his breath hissing through his teeth, not even bothering with curses.  He could feel Will in the back of his mind, the lad retreating before the white-hot rage that filled the pirate captain.

"Oh, love, I'm sorry . . .he didn't have any right, love, no right at all . . ."  Jack's fingers passed back and forth, hovering just above the A so callously branded into Ana-Maria's right arm.

The female pirate laughed, the sound somewhere between a sob and hysteria, and Jack quickly dropped her hand, embracing her as best he could.

"Gave himself the right . . .maybe . . .tried to . . .don't know . . ."

_Gave himself the right . . .gave himself the right . . .gave himself the right . . ._

It took all of Jack's self-control to stay on his knees as the words rang again and again through his mind.  The bastard wouldn't have . . .couldn't have . . .

"Ana-Maria, did he . . ."  Jack's tongue stumbled over the words.  The British Navy didn't do things like that.  Torture they might use, if the crime was heinous enough and the need for a confession strong enough, but they didn't rape their prisoners.  They _didn't_.

"I don't _know!_"  The pirate captain tightened his hold on Ana-Maria as she stiffened.

How could someone not know . . .?

"Love, did he cut you?  Make you drink or eat something?  Love?"

The female pirate tilted her head to one side and slowly nodded, drawing her sleeve away from her left arm, displaying a cross carved into her forearm.

"Made me drink . . .something.  Hard to remember . . .kept telling me . . .things . . .you and Will and Brian and the kids and . . .I don't _know_, Jack, I don't _know_ what he did to me . . .but I think . . .I think I gave them Brian . . ."

"It doesn't matter, Ana-Maria.  Brian can take care of himself.  How are ye doing now?  The world isn't spinning?  Not hearing voices or anything?"

"Just yers . . ."

"That's good, love.  Did he use his sword when he cut ye?"

"No . . .dagger.  I'm sorry, Jack."

"Ye've got nothin' t' be sorry for, Ana-Maria, nothin' at all, love.  Michael's the one that's going to be sorry.  I swear I'll kill him for what he's done."

Ana-Maria nodded slowly, sitting still in his arms for a few minutes before turning around and leaning her back against the bars, tucking her right arm protectively to her chest again.

"When's it stop hurting?"

"It'll dim down in a few hours.  It won't completely go away for a couple days, longer if it gets a fever in it.  I'm sorry, love.  This shouldn't have happened."

"Nothin' t' be sorry for, Jack.  Not your fault.  I'm quartermaster . . .could o' said somethin' if I thought somethin' was off, but I didn' think anythin' was.  Michael's . . .damn good actor."

"Better than me?"

"Maybe . . ."  Ana-Maria smiled slightly as Jack muttered something indistinct into her hair.  As if of its own accord, her left hand moved around to grab his right and turn it over, pushing back the sleeve until she could trace the well-known path of his own brand.

"We don't even get to match, Jack."  The pirate captain didn't answer, simply returning his hand to its original position.

Silence stretched and eddied in the near-dark of their cells, only slightly disturbed by the small steps of an uncertain ten-year-old as he moved to lean against the pirate captain's shoulder.

It was the dead of night before Jack woke both Ana-Maria and the boy who was using him as a pillow.

"Love . . .are you going to be able to run?"

Ana-Maria tensed.  "Why?"

"Because that stupid thing the lad was thinking about doing . . .I think he's doing it now."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Captain, I'm really sorry, sir, but our orders were not to let you through!"

"And whose orders were those, might I ask?"  Brian's tone was icy as he stalked around the younger redcoat, who turned in place in an attempt to keep his wary eyes on the officer.

"The Commodore's, sir."

"And why would the commodore wish to keep me from seeing them?  What possible purpose could there be in keeping me away from them?"

Oh, this was not good.  Any answer that the young redcoat made to this question was going to be wrong.  If he told the captain the reasons why the commodore didn't want him to be admitted to see the prisoners, the captain was going to fillet him.  If he didn't, the captain would more than likely find a way around whatever false reasons the redcoat gave and finagle his way in to see the prisoners, leading to Hallson filleting the redcoat later.

"Reasons, sir?  I . . .I . . ."  The young redcoat was saved from his decision as the hilt of a sword impacted with the back of his head with a sickened thud.

Will Turner grabbed the younger man as he slumped to the ground, dragging him swiftly into an alcove and out of sight.

"How many does that make?"

"Four.  Hallson has this place under virtual lock-down.  You'd think the French or the Spanish were trying to invade the port.  You didn't hit him too hard, did you?  The lad's only seventeen.  It isn't his fault he follows proper chain of command."

"No, I didn't hit him too hard.  He could have just stepped out of your way, you know, like the _Intrepid_'s crew did.  He doesn't have to follow Hallson.  How close are we to the brig?"

"Close.  Around the corner, then a guardroom, and then the actual cells are through the next door."

The two men hurried along the stone corridors, their footsteps loud in the silence of the night watch.  The guardroom itself was unlocked . . .and unmanned.

"Where the hell are the guards?  There should be two of them.  This doesn't make sense . . .Hallson has every other step in the path blocked, but he leaves this open . . ."

"Brian . . ."  The young captain stopped talking to look where the blacksmith pointed, a curious hissing noise escaping from between his lips as he turned to look at Will again.

"They wouldn't dare . . .Hallson wouldn't dare, without even a semblance of a trial or orders . . ."

"I don't know . . .he dared to break into my house."  Will walked slowly over to the brazier and picked up the glowing brand.  "Not even a pirate brand . . .adulterers.  Britain doesn't brand adulterers like this, not anymore.  It's barbaric."  Will felt his jaw clench tighter as he dropped the brand and turned away.  Jack's earlier rage was suddenly making perfect sense.

"Through here."  Brian moved towards the large wooden door at the end of the guardroom, pulling the keys that Rollin had procured for them from his belt as he did so.  Before he could begin unlocking the doors, the sound of footsteps and voices in the corridor startled both men.

Brian tossed the keys to Will as he sprinted back across the room, pausing in the doorway.  "Get them out of their cells and see if they're fit to travel.  I'll do what I can to distract or disable whoever it is."

Will nodded, though the young captain had already left, and turned his attention to the series of locks on the wooden door, cursing the more intense security at Johnson.  It wouldn't have taken nearly as much time to get everyone out at Port Royal.

Then again, with Norrington as commodore, there wouldn't have been any need to be breaking his son out of the brig . . .his murderer of a son.

Hallson had better pray that the child was well, in body, mind and spirit.  Otherwise, Will wasn't holding himself responsible for any actions that resulted in a long, slow, suffering death for the commodore.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Captain, sir, really, we just left for a few seconds, sir!"

"'Just for a few seconds'?!  How long do you think it takes to break a man out of prison?  'Just a few seconds' away from your post can mean the difference between justice being served and good men dying in an attempt to bring criminals back to justice!  Did you think about this before you both abandoned your post?  Did you think at all?"

"Captain, honestly, we were just following orders, sir!  We did what we were told to do!"

"Whose orders, pray tell?  What fool would order you away from your post when you are guarding a prisoner who is notorious for his daring escapes?"

Michael frowned as he watched the two redcoats cower in front of their superior officer.  The young captain hadn't spotted the mercenary, who had come from the other direction, having returned his cache of drugs to their proper place in his room.  The two redcoats had, more likely than not, been following Michael's orders and returning the different implements he had used during his information-extracting session with the female pirate to their proper places.  That seemed to be all the two marines were good for, having merely watched as the mercenary worked, both of them looking ill at ease, perhaps even physically nauseous over what Michael did.  As for Brian Lanebridges . . .

The young officer hardly looked to be the threat that Hallson believed him to be.  He seemed young for a captain, and though his voice carried the ring of command, he was hardly being reasonable at the moment.  If he was worried about the pirates escaping, it would definitely be more helpful to berate the two redcoats inside the guardroom rather than in the corridor.

If he was worried about the pirates escaping . . .

Michael sprinted the rest of the way down the corridor and swung into the guardroom, his sword already drawn.  There was no possible way in Hell someone was going to let Sparrow out now.  If Michael's head had been forfeited with the sinking of the _Pearl_, any hopes he had for a clean, quick death were more than forfeit now.

Will Turner swung away from the door to the brig and towards the mercenary, drawing his own sword in one deft movement and blocking Michael's stroke before stepping away for an instant and sweeping into his own attack.

The mercenary knew instantly that he was in trouble.  It might take only a knick to transfer the poison from his blade to the blacksmith's body, but that knick was going to be incredibly hard won.  Already the mercenary was strictly on the defensive, backing farther and farther away as Will pressed forward, using his superior skill and longer reach to his advantage.

The sound of steel striking steel sounded from the hallway, diverting both men's' attention for a moment, giving Michael a chance to back towards the door.  If it came down to a choice between let Sparrow go and live to fight another day or die on Turner's blade in an attempt to see that Sparrow stayed in his cell, he would definitely choose living to fight another day.

Turner returned to his offensive, backing Michael away from the door and towards the wall.  The mercenary's arm was already beginning to burn with exertion from deflecting the vicious blows aimed his way.  A startled cry of pain and rage diverted Turner's attention again, and the mercenary took the opportunity to lunge forward, attempting to both strike the blacksmith and free his escape path at the same time.  Will's sword swept in for a belated parry, and Michael felt his sword being wrenched from hand and sent flying across the room.  Before the blacksmith could reverse the movement and bring his sword in to taste blood, Michael had taken the chance offered him and run, sparing only a quick glance to ensure that he ran in the opposite direction of the three British naval men still engaged in their own battle.

Apparently the two guards weren't as useless and easily led as Michael had believed.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Jack?"  Ana-Maria whispered the word, not quite certain why she should.  There was just something in the way he was holding his head, the way his feet were braced as he leaned against his cell door, the way his right hand hovered where the hilt of his sword would have been that demanded some sort of acknowledgment.

"He's comin'.  Fightin'."  Jack's eyes were half-closed, predatory, as though he were the one doing the fighting.  The sound of steel against steel could be heard from beyond the wooden door separating the trio from the rest of reality.

Ana-Maria nodded, climbing slowly to her feet.  She felt better than she thought she would, not too incredibly shaky, though her arm still burned and itched.  Her memory of what had happened hadn't clarified, though . . .if anything, it was dimmer than before.  If not for the brand on her right arm and the cuts on her left, she could almost believe it had all been a nightmare.

"Papa's coming?"  The child, too, dropped his voice to a whisper as he stared uncertainly at the pirate captain.

"He's coming, Jack."  Ana-Maria reached down to pat the boy on the head, pulling her hand back in surprise as her fingers encountered a series of pendants.

How had she managed to miss the fact that Jack had braided and tied trinkets into the boy's hair?

The sound of battle came to an abrupt halt, and Ana-Maria tensed as she stared at Jack again.  The grin on his face reassured her that everything was all right as the locks opened and light streamed into the brig, blinding her night-adjusted eyes.  Two figures darted through the door, hastening first to Jack's cell and unlocking it.

Will grabbed his son in a tight hug as the child darted out of the cell, the pirate captain directly behind him.

"Well, it looks like you had fun, Jack."  Will smiled and quirked an eyebrow as he pulled the silver trinket away from his son's hair to look at it before letting it fall back into place.

"Oh, aye, we had a grand time."  The sarcasm that underlined the pirate's words brought a smile to both men's faces.

"Yes, well, if you don't want to have more fun, I suggest we get out of here as quickly as we can."  Brian turned his attention to unlocking Ana-Maria's cell, swiping idly at his blood-covered left cheek.

"Lad, are you all right?"  Jack pulled the younger man back as the lock on the Ana-Maria's cell opened and the female pirate stepped out.  A gentle probe showed the edges of a two-inch-long cut.  "You really need to learn how to duck."

"Or maybe I need to learn how to avoid you."  There was no malice in the young officer's tone, only weariness.  "At least it'll be symmetrical now.  One scar on each side."

"Papa, you're bleeding!"  The child's voice was horror-struck as he pulled his hand away from his father's side.

Will gently set the boy down and turned a practiced eye to the gash on his ribs, an injury he had been too preoccupied to notice.  The gash wasn't deep, though it was long.  "It's all right, Jack.  I'll be fine.  Come on.  Let's go see your sister.  Uncle Brian's men should have the active guard positions until Michael sounds the alarm, so if we leave now, we should be all right."

No one argued as the quintet hurried back the way they had come, Jack and Ana-Maria sparing only moments to grab their swords and pistols from the guardroom.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Michael ascertained with a quick glance that Turner and the rest had left before beginning a rapid search for his sword.

After all the kills he had made with it, he was becoming rather attached to it.

The mercenary sighed in relief as a glint of steel on the flagstones near the far wall caught his eye.

Michael gingerly picked up the sword by the hilt, staring in fascination at the crimson stain along one side of it.  He hadn't thought that he had actually hit Turner.  Even though the man had managed to free Sparrow and the others, he wasn't going to get away unscathed.  Within ten minutes he would be feeling the full effects of the poison; within a half-hour, he would be dead.

Michael had rethought his opinion of the young captain.  The man had managed to position his men so that they held the most important guard points, leaving his lieutenant on his ship to ensure that she was ready to leave harbor as soon as the order was given.  He had managed to incapacitate eight redcoats without a single cry of alarm and without any deaths, though some of them would probably wish for death over the headaches they would have when they awoke.  He had somehow managed it so that the crew he was taking out with the _Intrepid_ were on board the ship already.

The mercenary comforted himself with the thought that even if Lanebridges managed to get Sparrow and the rest to the _Intrepid_ and get out of port before the chaos that had descended on the fort resolved into a serious manhunt, he and Sparrow wouldn't win.

It might not have been the pirate blood Michael was hoping for, but it would do.

It would definitely do.


	16. Chapter 16: Holding On

Disclaimer:  I own a petulant muse, a few OC's, the bad guys, and Ja—*evil bad-guy lawyers prepare to pounce*—Ja_raen_, my muse, yes, that's what I was planning on saying all along . . . 

AN:  Time has stopped being a constant and keeps decreasing.  I'll post tonight and repost in two nights with responses to reviews and my stats project included, so I'm not really breaking my word.  As for the little drabble/lost scenes folder, it's in addition to TLaP that I'm posting those.  I figured if I had them, I might as well share them.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 16**

"Brian, grab him!"  The young captain reacted immediately, the concern in Jack's voice over-riding any hesitancy he might have felt at invading the blacksmith's personal space without any visual justification.  As soon as his hand came into contact with Will's shoulder, the blacksmith began to sway precariously.  Brian quickly worked his shoulder under Will's arm, supporting as much of his weight as he was allowed, casting furtive glances at the lightening sky.

Brian had timed their escape out as closely as he could.  The _Intrepid_ was to be prepared to leave at dawn.  All they had to do was get to her, he would give the order, and they would . . .

Run.  They would run.  He would be running from his own people, for saving his godson, for saving his friends.

Well, maybe for saving them.  It seemed as though even making the run from the fort to the ship was going to cause problems.

"_That_ . . .was most definitely . . ._not_ nothing, Will."  Brian spared at glance toward Jack, staggering with less than his usual grace by Ana-Maria, his left hand pressed firmly against his head, his right clutched by Will's son, who was staring at his father in something approaching total terror.  Ana-Maria hovered at her captain's side, apparently prepared to catch him if he seemed to become even unsteadier.

Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, _why _couldn't anything just be easy and go as planned?

"The _Intrepid_ isn't much further, Will.  You can make it."  Brian shifted his shoulder further under Will's arm as the blacksmith leaned ever more heavily into him, small shudders beginning to race up and down his body.

"O' course I can.  Jus' a li'l dizzy."

"Ye're slurrin' yer words . . .worse'n a drunken . . .pirate, whelp.  Don' lie."

Will suddenly stopped walking, straightening slightly as he turned to stare at the pirate captain and the child he was guiding.  "Jack . . .please."

Brian realized what Will was trying to say without words.  No, he wasn't all right, but he didn't want to frighten the child any more than he already was.

"All righ', Will.  Who cut ye?"

Will's head was hanging down, his breath coming in panting gasps as Brian half-helped, half-dragged him to the docks.

"Michael . . ."  The blacksmith sagged even further against the young captain as Jack cursed.  "Don', Jack, please."

"Sorry . . .'m sorry, Will."

"No . . . don' go tha' far, Jack, don' go . . .please . . ."  Will straightened slightly, stopping again to look for the pirate captain, sweat dripping from him even as shudders continued to race up and down his body.

"Come on, Will, not much further."  Brian sighed in relief as he stepped onto the dock, the _Intrepid_ suddenly filling his vision.

She was a beautiful frigate, at least in his own opinion.  Thirty-two guns, one-hundred-and-fifty feet long, able to easily hit twelve knots, sometimes thirteen or fourteen if he played her right against the winds . . .He had never raced her against the _Pearl_, but he had always wondered how she would fair.  Oh, yes, she was a beautiful ship . . .

And his.  She was his, his to command, his to care for, his to crew.  It still felt strange, even after nearly three years, to think of a ship, especially one like her, as his.

A commotion on deck caught his attention, and a moment later Elizabeth came flying down the dock, instantly placing herself under Will's other arm.

"Will, what happened?"

"The brillian' lad fought . . .man wi' a poisoned sword . . .'n' then went . . .and forgo' t' duck."

"I couldn' duck tha' low anyway, Jack . . .could o' dodged, maybe . . ."

A small blur raced past Brian and onto the ship, attaching itself to the girl who was watching the small crew approach from the railing, held in place by calloused blacksmith hands on her shoulders.  Brian turned his head away as the children sat down, hugging each other tightly, whispering and crying as they watched.

Some things weren't meant to be intruded upon by outside eyes.

"Might want t' . . .let him sit 'gainst . . .side for a momen' . . .if ye wan' your ship t' stay all nice and clean."

Brian nodded, not allowing himself to wonder how Jack would know as he gently lowered the sick man to the deck, Elizabeth kneeling beside him.  The sound of retching made his own stomach clench with worry as he turned to face Rollin and Hardel.

"Lieutenant, is the _Intrepid_ fit to sail?"

"Aye, sir.  All hands aboard and completely reprovisioned."

"Good.  Take her out, then.  I'll be in my cabin with my guests.  George, I need you to find Francis and tell him he has patients to see."

"Aye, sir."  The redcoat snapped to attention and left, casting only a few surreptitious glances over his shoulder at the young captain and his 'guests'.

"Captain, might I inquire at to what happened and what we're to do now?"  Rollin stood stiff and straight, gazing warily over Brian's shoulder.

Brian licked his lips, tasting copper all along the left side of his mouth.  "Some unexpected things occurred at the fort tonight.  No lives were lost."  _Yet_.  "The _Intrepid_ was slated to leave at dawn, and so she shall.  If your friends don't succeed in their brilliant plan, I take full responsibility for anything and everything that happens aboard this ship.  Understood?"

"Aye, sir.  Perfectly clear.  Did you have a course in mind?"

The young captain grimaced, the action causing fresh blood to trickle down his face.  "For the moment, just away from here, Lieutenant.  I'll tell you more tomorrow.  There're other things that need taking care of right now."

"Aye, Captain."

"Sir, permission to leave the ship."  Brian turned to the blacksmith standing behind the children.

"Permission granted, Robert.  Thank you for staying with Elizabeth and the children."

"You're very welcome, Brian, though I'm wishing I'd come with you."  Robert cast a single worried glance towards Will.

"It wouldn't have changed anything.  Be careful.  Hallson will not be pleased."

"He's no reason to connect me to anything that's happening."

Brian sighed, fighting the urge to rub at his face where the blood had begun to dry.  "He's no fool, even if he is going mad.  The mad make leaps of logic that the sane couldn't.  Just be careful."

"I will be, sir.  Take care of yourself, Brian.  Take care of them."  Robert leapt lightly down to the dock and walked away as Rollin bellowed the orders that would take them out to sea and safety.  He was bargaining on being able to get away from the dock before any alarm was sounded.  The fact that Michael was still conscious somewhere didn't improve Brian's outlook much.  At least the _Defender_ wasn't anywhere near prepared to follow them, and even if they managed to muster the crew and give chase, firing on a fellow British ship that simply seemed to be following orders wouldn't sit right with most of the men.

Normally Brian would have been at the helm, would have been the one yelling orders and coaxing the right response from his ship as she fought her way free of land and into open water.  It was one of the parts he liked best about being captain.  Today, though, there was something more important that he had to tend to.  He wouldn't trust Rollin to control Jack Sparrow on a good day . . .on a day when all indications seemed to point to Will dying, he definitely wasn't leaving the man to care for the pirate.

"Will, can you stand?"  Brian knelt beside the blacksmith and his wife.  Will was doubled over on the deck, both arms pressed tight to his stomach, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"Not . . .without . . .help."

"You have it.  Come on.  On your feet for a few seconds."  Brian and Elizabeth slowly raised a very shaky Will to his feet, guiding him the few steps and into the great cabin before depositing him on one of the two cots still set up from a certain rescue a week ago.  Brian quickly found a bucket, certain that the rocking of the ship wasn't going to be helping the poison-induced nausea.

"Stay with him.  I'll get Jack and Ana-Maria and see what's keeping Francis.  He's somewhat capable in his field."  Elizabeth didn't even bother to nod as Brian exited the cabin.  He hadn't really expected a reaction anyway.

"Jack . . ."  The pirate captain was leaning heavily against the railing, both hands pressed to his head, Ana-Maria steadying him.  "Oh, Jesus, Jack, what's wrong?"

"He won't back off from the lad, that's what's wrong.  Ye can't fight this, Jack.  Ye're going to hurt yourself."

Jack shook his head slowly.  "He asked me t' stay, love . . .he's ne'er abandoned me . . .not goin' t' abandon him . . .already lost one brother by letting go . . .not goin' t' lose 'nother . . ."

"He _has_ abandoned ye before, ye daft fool, and I won't lose ye, Jack Sparrow!  Ye can't fight death!"

It seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort for Jack to straighten and lock his eyes on Ana-Maria.  "Says who?  I've cheated 'im 'nough times 'fore. . ."

"First off, get into the cabin, both of you.  I don't want you seen on deck until we're well away from shore.  Secondly, what in heaven's name are you talking about?"  Brian was getting rather tired of being left out of the loop when it came to rather important details that could drastically alter his plans to keep them all alive.

"Will didn't tell you about the link?"

"Apparently not, if I'm asking you.  Do you need help, Jack?"

"No . . .'m quite capable of walkin' all by me onesies . . .jus' tryin' t' convince m'self an' the lad that losin' breakfas' all o'er yer ship isn' the best way to thank ye . . ."  Jack staggered the few steps into the cabin, settling himself against the wall and resting his head in his hands again, Ana-Maria following.  Brian waited at the door, alternating scanning the deck in front of him for the doctor and the shore that they were slowly pulling away from for signs of trouble.

"Captain."

Brian greeted the other man with a smile, motioning him towards the cabin and Hardel towards the guard position at the door.  "Doctor."

Francis Welks wasn't what you would call a young man, though he didn't qualify as old, either.  He had spent over fifteen years patching naval men back together, the last two aboard the _Intrepid_, and he had a fair knack for it, saving more patients than he lost, something that many surgeons couldn't say.

"Looks like you forgot to duck again, Captain."

"Aye.  I'm not the one you need to see first, though."

The doctor stepped inside the cabin quickly and scanned the occupants.  "Jesus, Captain, what've you been doing, starting a war?"

"It doesn't matter now, Francis.  I need you to do what you can for them."

The doctor spared a glance towards the two pirates.  "All of them?"

"Aye, all of them, man.  You're a doctor.  Remember your Hippocratic oath?  I think that supercedes any other loyalties you have at the moment.  Not that other loyalties should be a problem.  It is your Captain ordering you to act, is it not?"  The doctor nodded crisply, straightening his shoulders, though the effect was somewhat dampened by his rumpled uniform.  It occurred to Brian that the man might have slept in it so as to be better able to be up and caring for any injuries his Captain might have received within minutes.  It wasn't Welks' fault that he was a military man through and through.  "Look at Will first."

"Aye, captain."  Welks' blue eyes sharpened as he moved towards his patient.  "Will Turner, I presume?"

"Yes."  Will attempted to straighten and stare at the doctor, managing only raising his head before the effort didn't seem to be worth the reward.  It was much simpler merely to lean against Elizabeth and clutch the bucket as he attempted to keep some remnants of his dignity.

"Seasick, lad?"  The doctor gently pried the bucket away from Will's hands and began examining the slash to his side.

"Wish . . ."

"You wish what?"  Francis frowned as he felt the shudders racing across the blacksmith's skin.  He gently placed one hand on Will's chest and closed his eyes, listening intently.

"Wish . . .just seasick . . .need the . . ."  Welks quickly returned the bucket to Will, patting him gently on the shoulder as dry heaves wracked his body.

"Captain, a word with you?"

"Aye."

Brian gestured towards the small door leading from the great cabin into his own, much smaller, personal cabin.  The grim look on the doctor's face was doing little to reassure him.

"The cut isn't nearly enough to make him this sick, and it doesn't come anywhere close to explaining the shivering, the difficulty breathing, the irregular heartbeat . . .were you playing with someone who uses poison?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it playing, but yes, Michael has been known to use poison on his blade."

"Damn.  You have a Bible, correct?  And you're qualified to do a burial at sea, aren't you?"

"What?  You can't be serious.  You're not even going to try anything?"

"There's nothing _to_ try, Captain.  I've seen this before.  Hunters use the poison on animals and accidentally stab themselves or shoot their neighbors.  Rebels use it to poison wells.  There is no treatment for aconite poisoning, Brian.  If you're able to find some way to give him a semblance of peace, do so.  If it wasn't damnation to commit suicide or murder, I'd put a pistol in the man's mouth myself and pull the trigger.  He is going to die.  He is going to die in agony.  There is nothing I or you or anyone else can do about it."

Brian licked at his lips again, the coppery tang of his own blood coating his tongue.  "How long?"

"How long has it been since he was cut?"

"A bit over twenty minutes."

"Normally I'd say less than ten minutes . . .then again, I usually wouldn't expect anyone suffering from wolfbane poisoning to still be coherent after twenty minutes."  
  


"Do you think maybe . . ."

"No.  All the symptoms are there, Brian, and they're just getting worse.  He's just fighting more, that's all.  I'd give him twenty minutes, maybe a half hour."

  
"All right."  There really wasn't much else to say.  The young captain could do little to argue with Death.

"Will you let me look at your face now?"

"No.  See to Jack and Ana-Maria first, and then I want you to look at our Jack, Turner's son, just to make sure that everything's well with him."

"And then you'll let me look at your face?"

"Aye."

"All right.  I'll care for your pirates if you'll at least scrub down.  The men don't really need to see you walking around with half your face coated in blood.  Not if you want to succeed in whatever you're planning."

"I'm just trying to keep good men, and women, from meeting an untimely, unnecessary demise.  Nothing more, and nothing less."

"All right, Captain.  I've sailed with you for two years.  I trust your judgment.  You've a knack for reading people."

Brian nodded as he stepped back out into the main cabin, looking first at Will cradled against Elizabeth and then at the two pirates that the doctor was approaching.  Welks didn't slow until he stood directly in front of the seemingly semi-conscious pirate captain.  Ana-Maria's hand shot out a second too late to stop the doctor from reaching down to prod at the blood-matted mass of hair against the pirate's left temple.

Jack was on his feet and swinging as soon as the doctor's fingers connected with his head.  Brian winced in sympathy pain as the pirate's fist connected with Francis's chin with a sickening thud that sent the doctor reeling backward and to the floor.

The pirate captain blinked at the doctor several times and then looked down at his fist before slowly unclenching his fingers.  "Ye're not Michael."

"I wasn't the last time I looked, no."  Francis rubbed at his jaw as Ana-Maria hauled him to his feet.

"Y'know, touchin' a pirate without askin' permission and givin' warnin' is a bad idea."  Jack was swaying noticeably as he turned away from the doctor, his unfocused gaze ranging the cabin for a moment before locking on Will.

"I was slowly forming that picture in my mind."  Brian's admiration for the doctor grew as the man shook off Ana-Maria's hand and again approached Jack, holding his hands out to the side.  "May I examine your head, Captain?"

"Ye need t' talk softer when ye're sayin' someone's goin' t' die.  He's not, either, y'know . . .won' let 'im . . ."  Jack seemed to swing his gaze back to the doctor with difficulty.  "Good of ye t' 'member tha' I'm a captain, too."

"Captain Sparrow, can I look at your head?  Please."

"Not yet.  Need t' clean Will up first . . .I can' touch 'im when he's bloody.  Four's the number for death, ye know.  Can't have the link breakin' now.  Need it . . .need t' keep him grounded . . .keep close . . .help him . . ."  Jack suddenly straightened and pivoted slightly, pointing at Ana-Maria.  "And her . . .clean up her arm . . .less scarring . . .less pain that way . . ."

"All right, Captain.  I'll do that."  Francis slowly backed away as Jack returned to his seat in the corner, talking quietly to himself . . .

Or maybe not to himself.  Brian stared at Will again, his throat constricting as everything began to make more sense.

What exactly would it do to an already slightly unstable pirate to be somehow linked to a dead man?

"Can I look at your arm . . ."  Brian caught the hesitancy in the doctor's speech as he attempted  to decide what to call Ana-Maria, evidently deciding on nothing as he cautiously approached the female pirate.

"Don't worry, doctor.  I won't be hitting you.  Not unless ye do something to deserve it."  Ana-Maria pulled her right arm away from her body and held it out to the doctor.  Brian moved closer as Francis swiftly unbuttoned the cuff and gently rolled back the sleeve.

"Oh, good Lord above, what in Hell was he thinking?  I'm sorry, m'lady.  This should not have been done.  The Royal Navy does not do things like this."

Ana-Maria turned her head away as Welks began working.  "I know it shouldn't have been done, doctor.  I would never do that to Jack.  Even if we aren't legally or religiously wed, I've earned his trust, and I'll be damned before I lose it for some fool reason like lust."  Francis nodded, gently wiping down the burned skin from the brand before proceeding to tie a white bandage tightly around it.  She flexed her hand as he finished.  "As for the Royal Navy . . .I've just never had much of an affinity for any man wearing their uniform, with the possible exceptions of James Norrington and your own captain."

"There're good men in the military.  Many good men, and I've sailed under and with more of them than I can remember."

"I've a good captain of my own.  Go clean Will up . . .please."  Ana-Maria again pulled her arm tight against her side.  Francis turned to face Brian, raising both eyebrows in question.  The young captain nodded.

There was nothing he could do help Will, nothing Francis could do to help Will, but, given their link and both men's sheer willfulness, there might be something Jack could do to help Will.

But at what price did you bargain with Death?


	17. Chapter 17: Letting Go

AN:  Too much has happened to attempt to explain why this was not posted Wednesday or Thursday.  As is, this is already about 33% author ramblings, far too much, in my opinion, but I gave my word and I follow it.  Feel free to tell me to shut up at any time.  My stats project contains an insane amount of information, so I'm going to feed it out in chunks.  This first chunk gives the ranking of the good guys.  Next to each rank will be the people placed in that rank, and next to the people, in parenthesis, first the percentage they earned in that rank and then the cumulative, or what percentage of people place them either in that rank or a higher rank.  So, here goes.  **Rank 1**: Jack Sparrow (87.5%, 91%), Will (12.5%, 12.5%).  **Rank 2**: Will (50%, 46%), Ana-Maria (18%, 17%), Jack Sparrow (9%, 100%), Elizabeth (9%, 8%), Ana Turner (4.5%, 4.5%), Norrington (4.5%, 4%), Brian (4.5%, 4%).  **Rank 3**: Elizabeth (42%, 50%), Ana-Maria (26%, 43%), Will (21%, 79%), Jack Turner (8%, 9%), Brian (4%, 9%).  **Rank 4**: Jack Turner (30%, 45%), Ana Turner (19%, 27%), Elizabeth (15%, 67%), Ana-Maria (11%, 57%), Will (7%, 83%), Brian (7%, 17%), Norrington (7%, 12%), Black Pearl (4%, 100%).  **Rank 5**: Ana Turner (25%, 50%), Ana-Maria (15%, 70%), Jack Turner (15%, 57%), Brian (15%, 26%), Will (10%, 96%), Elizabeth (10%, 75%), Gibbs (5%, 17%), Norrington (5%, 16%).  **Rank 6**: Brian (24%, 57%), Ana-Maria (20%, 91%), Ana Turner (20%, 73%), Jack Turner (16%, 77%), Norrington (12%, 28%), Elizabeth (8%, 83%).  **Rank 7**: Brian (30%, 83%), Jack Turner (17%, 95%), Norrington (17%, 44%), Ana-Maria (9%, 100%), Elizabeth (9%, 92%), Ana Turner (9%, 82%), Will (4%, 100%), Governor Swann (4%, 17%).  **Rank 8**: Norrington (50%, 84%), Ana Turner (15%, 95%), Elizabeth (10%, 100%), Robert (10%, 40%), Jack Turner (5%, 100%), Brian (5%, 91%), Governor Swann (5%, 33%).  **Rank 9**: Norrington (31%, 100%), Gibbs (23%, 50%), Brian (15%, 100%), Ana Turner (8%, 100%), Robert (8%, 60%).  **Rank 10**: Governor Swann (57%, 100%), Gibbs (29%, 100%), Gillette (14%, 100%).  **Rank 11**: Robert (100%, 100%).  **Rank 12**: Cotton (50%, 100%), Rollin (50%, 100%).  **Rank 13**: Cotton's Parrot (100%, 100%).

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 17**

Everything was dark . . . or maybe not dark . . . but definitely not light, either . . . grayish . . .

And painful.  His side hurt, but that made sense.  After all, he'd been nicked by a sword, hadn't he?  That didn't explain why it hurt to breathe, though, or why his chest ached with each throbbing of his heart.

Was this what dying felt like?

No.  He had done that before, too, and actually dying didn't hurt.  Everything might before then, pain might radiate from a million sources, but when Death actually came to collect on the debt from life, it didn't hurt.  Death was always gentle, courteous . . . demanding . . .

He frowned slightly into the gray.  Something about that wasn't right.  He had met Death, met him and cheated him . . . but that wasn't the man who had been cut . . . and he was that man, too, wasn't he?

"Jack . . . come on, Jack, open yer eyes and help me here . . ."

Jack.  The name was familiar, even if it was wrong . . . or maybe not _wrong_ . . . just not _right_ . . .

"Jack Sparrow, open yer damn eyes!  Come on now, Cap'n, it's me, it's Ana-Maria, and I need you to show me you can hear me.  Cap'n?"

Cap'n?  Yes . . . Captain . . .Captain Jack Sparrow . . .

"Jack, please . . ." The voice seemed to be on the verge of tears, a fact that startled and disturbed him.  This voice wasn't supposed to cry . . . yell, threaten, amuse, annoy . . .but not cry . . .

The gray sharpened and the pain faded slightly as a small hand clasped onto his limp one, pressing something metallic and circular into it.

"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  If I'd o' known you needed protection, I wouldn't have let you give it away.  I'm sorry, Uncle Jack, I'm sorry.  Please be all right."

Jack gripped the boy's hand as hard as he dared, forcibly disentangling his emotions, his thoughts and memories, from Will's.  He hadn't meant to go that deep, not when his own grounds were already tenuous at best.

"That's it, Jack, you come back to us, y'hear?  It's goin' t' be hard enough losin' one without losin' the both of ye."  Ana-Maria's fingers were stroking gently along his cheek, and he leaned more into that contact, as well, still clutching the boy's hand.

Slowly, the movement requiring much more effort than he remembered, Jack opened his eyes, blinking hazily against the light streaming in through the windows at the stern end of the cabin.  It seemed somehow sacrilegious, that the sun would shine so bright and merry and the waves still dance and hum their jaunty tune as Will fought harder and harder for every breath.

"Jack?"

"'M all righ'.  'E isn' bloody anymore?"

"Jack, it doesn't matter.  Let go.  Please."  Ana-Maria continued to rub her hand along his cheek.

"Hurts."

"Where?"  Ana-Maria frowned as Jack moved his hand slowly along his side, across his chest, and down his left arm.

"He hurts worse."  Jack attempted to lurch to his feet, pausing to lean against the wall halfway through the motion as the world tilted and spun again.

"Papa's going to die, isn't he?"  The boy made no effort to cover the tears rolling down his face, nor did his sister, standing directly behind him.

"No.  No, he won't, not if I can help him."  The pirate captain tightened his grip on the boy's hand, surprised at the hard press of metal against his palm.  Opening his hand, he studied the engravings on the silver trinket before returning it to the child's hand.  "I'm believin' I gave that t' ye."

"I thought . . . I thought maybe it could . . .help you."

"I'm goin' t' be all right, Jack.  I promise ye.  Your father, too.  Why don't you and your sis go with Brian for a bit and help him run the ship, aye?"

"Aye, Uncle Jack."  The boy looked at the trinket in his palm for a moment before grabbing his sister and swiftly tying it into her hair.

Ana-Maria waited until both children had left the cabin before rounding on Jack, her hand rising and fluttering ineffectually in the air as she evidently decided he looked too shaky to slap.

"That was a bloody fool thing to promise, Jack.  Ye can't deliver that."

Jack slowly took the few steps from the wall to where Will was lying stretched out on the cot, his eyes closed and his breath coming in uncertain gasps.

"Least not nauseous 'nymore . . ."

"Jack . . ."

The pirate captain ignored her, sinking down onto the floor beside Elizabeth with a grateful sigh and reaching out to grab Will's hand as he closed his eyes again.  Elizabeth didn't pause in her gentle stroking of Will's cheek to acknowledge the pirate.

"Ye're not losin' either of us that fast, love.  Trus' me.  I'm plannin' on livin' quite a bit longer . . . and so are you, aren't you, lad?"

Ana-Maria watched as Will nodded slowly, his eyes still closed, and tightened his grip on Jack's hand.  "Not plannin' . . . on dyin' . . .for long . . .time . . ."

"That's right, Will.  We're both plannin' on livin' for a long time.  Just have t' stay focused.  Keep breathing.  All those importan' things."  Jack frowned as he allowed himself to slip further into Will's mind and heart, giving as much strength as he could.  "No andes por ahi.  No bastante fuerte para guardanos ambos aqui, cachorro."

"Ye're not even rememberin' t' speak English now, Jack.  Think about this."  Ana-Maria placed one hand on her captain's shoulder, afraid to push him too hard, afraid of what he might do to himself if she didn't try.

"Who said I meant to speak English?  Lad doesn't need to know what I said, 'n' neither do ye."  Jack paused to catch his breath.  "Love . . . keep yer hand there?  Please?"

Ana-Maria hesitated before sitting down beside Jack and leaning her whole body against his side.

The pirate captain sighed and relaxed against her, never loosening his hold on Will's hand.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Jack, talk to me again.  I want to know you're still in there where you belong."

Movement would take far too much effort, effort that was better expended in ascertaining that two sets of lungs took that next breath, two hearts beat that one more beat that made the difference between life and death.

"Jesus, Jack, just let him _go_.  Ye're not God.  Stop trying to act like it."

Strong hands reached out of the dark, ripping at the physical connection between him and the blacksmith, threatening to tear away his most important ground.  It was far too easy to get lost in the confusion of emotions and snippets of images that constituted Will's weakening struggles against the dimming of the light.

"No."

The single word caused him to choke and gasp in confusion as the orders he was giving were suddenly doubled, his breathing no longer matching Will's.  Jack lurched forward, away from the offending hands.  The effort of sitting upright was too much to coordinate, and he slumped down onto the cot as well, allowing his own body to cover their clasped hands.

He _needed_ the ground, needed to know they were both real, somewhere, that there were bodies responding to the increasingly harried commands he was giving.

"Jack!"

There was something like terror in her voice now, something that frightened him, but he couldn't dwell on that.  Slowly, never opening his eyes, each movement carefully mapped to conserve as much energy as possible, the pirate captain shifted his body against Will's unmoving one.  He sighed as he rested his head against the blacksmith's neck, settling their hands over Will's heart.

Better.  Now he could feel the gasping breaths, the erratic heartbeat, could feel them and keep them in some semblance of a pattern.

"Damn ye, ye bloody daft fool, don' _do_ this!  He wouldn't want you to do this, Jack."

Ana-Maria was wrong there.  Will wanted to live, wanted it with a fierce desire that both could feel even through the pain, the fatigue, the disorientation, and if Will thought he could cling to life by holding onto Jack, the pirate wasn't going to dissuade him of the notion.

"Tell him.  Tell him it's all right to let go."

A tense silence filled the air before gentle fingers were stroking through his hair and along his face . . . both their faces.

"Hold onto him, Jack.  Please hold onto him."  The whispered words brought a hiss of wordless rage from Ana-Maria.

"Ye're goin' t' lose us both of them."

Elizabeth didn't answer, though the comforting touches didn't cease.  Jack considered the effort it would take to move, to talk, to pull his sense of self far enough away from Will so that he would be entirely coherent, and decided it was better to simply stay where he was.  He would explain it all later.

Ana-Maria didn't understand.  It wasn't Elizabeth who could tell him when to let go, or even Will, if the stubborn lad ever decided he was tired of fighting.

It was Jack's choice, a choice he had been forced to make before, a choice that had changed the course of his life and helped to make him what he was.

Only this time, he had chosen not to let go.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Francis hesitated a moment before walking into the cabin, knowing what he would find, the same sick feeling that settled into his gut every time he lost a patient present and full-blown.  Consoling himself with the fact that there had been absolutely nothing he could do didn't help much.

He still had one live patient that he had to see to, though.  Captain Jack Sparrow.  One of the most notorious pirates in the Caribbean . . . under his commander's protection and Welks' own medical care.  The pirate had seemed hard-pressed simply to stay upright on his own when the doctor had seen him last, but the female pirate had still warned him away with a few quiet words and looks.

It had been over seven hours now, though, and the initial grief over Turner's death should have started wearing off.  Now was a good a time as he was ever going to have to examine the gash in the pirate's head.

It was easy to pick out the two female occupants of the cabin.  Both were kneeling by the cot he had last seen Will occupying.  Both held themselves as far as they could from the other without actually moving from their positions, their backs rigid and straight, not making eye contact or in any way acknowledging that the other was there.

It took him only a moment longer to pick out the pirate and the blacksmith's body.  The sick feeling of losing a patient receded slightly, replaced by nausea of a different sort.  If not for the fact that both men were fully clothed . . .he knew that sailors would occasionally bed other sailors, but still . . .

_That_ was one tale he had never heard told of the pirate.

Ana-Maria turned and locked eyes with him, a strange mixture of fury, desperation and grief filling her features.

"Don't ye dare defile what he's doin' by thinkin' of it like that."

Francis kept his face as impassive as possible, no longer entirely certain how psychologically stable his patients were.

"And what exactly is it that he's doing?"

"He's doin' what ye couldn't.  He's tryin' t' save a life."

That caused the doctor to pause in consideration and approach the cot more closely.

"My God, he's still alive.  It's a miracle."

Ana-Maria laughed, the sound closer to a sob.  "No.  Just Captain Jack Sparrow."

Francis shook his head, completely amazed that the man was still breathing.  Maybe he had overestimated how much of the poison and how concentrated a solution it was that had entered the blacksmith's body.  He had just been so certain, though, based on the symptoms and their severity . . .

"What do you mean just Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Neither woman answered him, both intent on the tableau in front of them.

"He isn't supposed to be this still.  It isn't right."  Elizabeth's voice was soft, as though she feared breaking some spell as she alternated running her fingers down her husband's and the pirate's faces.

"I don't understand.  May I?"  Francis reached out slowly to gently touch each man.  The pirate flinched away from his hand, burying his head further into Will's head and hair, but Will didn't move at all.

"Ye couldn't understand."  Ana-Maria reached out and grabbed the doctor's hand before he could touch Jack and Will's firmly entwined hands.

"Try explaining it to me."

"What do you see, Doctor?"

"They're breathing in synchrony."  Francis found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the two men, both gasping for air, barely moving otherwise.

"No.  Jack's breathin' for both o' them.  He's not lettin' go."

"How . . .?"  Welks turned back to the pirate as he started talking, the words low and barely intelligible.  "What's he saying?"

Ana-Maria turned away from her captain as she whispered the words.  "'I still owe you my life, my sanity.  If you want them, they're yours.  I can't fight you, Will Turner.'"

Will's lips moved slowly, and Elizabeth continued to gently stroke his cheek, giving voice to them.  "'Oh, God, no.  Jack, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.'"

Francis backed away as the two women faced each other for the first time.  He suddenly had the distinct impression that he wasn't only superfluous to the moment, but a detriment to whatever forces were at work.

Ana-Maria continued, and Francis watched in eerie fascination as her vocals matched the movements of the pirate captain's mouth.  "'Not you.  You're a good lad, good man.'"

Elizabeth again took Will's part.  "'I didn't mean to.  I tried to stop it.'"

"'I'm a good distraction.'"

"'I didn't get to choose.'"  Elizabeth held eye contact with the female pirate for several seconds before turning away slightly, her voice falling into a whisper as she again stroked her fingers along her husband's face.  "He says it, in his sleep, and he'll wake crying and try not to let it show."

Ana-Maria also turned her gaze away.  "Jack will say it in his nightmares, and he'll wake screaming and shaking.  He'll never tell me what he sees."  Ana-Maria moved closer to the other woman, raising her eyes again.  "I know what Will is to ye, and I'll grieve for him too, but don't let him take both of them down.  Tell Jack it's all right to let go."

Elizabeth slowly nodded, reaching over Jack to run her hands along Will's face and kiss him, once.

Then she pulled back, tears in her eyes, and studied the pirate captain.  "Jack, you can let him go.  It's going to be all right if you let go, Jack."

All three waited as the silence stretched.

"No."

Ana-Maria wished that she had missed the whispered word.  She felt tears of frustration and grief prick at her eyes as Elizabeth moved closer, grabbing the female pirate's hand, offering silent comfort.

Francis turned and left.

No matter what happened, events here were completely out of his control.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack gasped, the air hot and oppressive in his lungs, the absence of oxygen even more terrifying than it's painful presence.  His chest burned, each heartbeat harder and harder to implement.  He was tired . . . so very, very tired . . .

"I see him, Jack.  You were right . . ." Will's words would have been unintelligible and nonsensical to anyone else.

"Figh' wi' me, Will.  Don' give up . . ."

"Tired . . ."

"Doe'n't matter."

It did matter, though.  It mattered quite a bit.  It was getting harder and harder to force his mind on to the next breath, the next heartbeat.  He had run out of memories with which to coax a response from the blacksmith.  Even the fierce desire to live had nearly evaporated, drained by the long battle.

Jack shuddered and tightened his hold as a single erratic heartbeat escaped his control . . . and another . . . and another . . . the rhythmic throbbing degenerating into chaos and a cold numbness.

The pirate captain stiffened.  He recognized the cold, creeping sensation for what it was.

"No . . . _no_ . . . not now . . . not after . . . all this . . ."  Jack struggled to reinstate some kind of order, the effort causing pain to stab through his own chest as his heart skipped a beat and changed rhythm.  He could feel Will slipping further away from him, fading into the darkness that was rising to cover the light, an ebon tide that Jack could dodge but not influence.

"Thank you . . . staying . . ."  Will's voice was fainter than a whisper, his meaning only clear thanks to the link.

This wasn't happening.  He hadn't managed to hold out this long simply to lose the lad now.

_Greater love has no one than this, than he lay down his life for his friends__._

Who had told him that?  The priest, when he was still a rootless street rat wondering if he should maybe go home and see if San was all right?

Or maybe someone else . . . Bootstrap?

It didn't matter.  What mattered was that he was losing his grip . . . but that he was still strong enough to pull out . . . that one of them, at least, could still summon enough energy to live . . .

One of them . . .

Jack's head was spinning and pounding as he tried to wrap his exhausted mind around the idea that flickered enticingly through the chaos that was replacing conscious thought.

Will had a home, a family.

Will was a good decade younger than Jack, and in an occupation at least slightly less inimical to survival.

The likelihood that Brian would be able to find a way to get them all to safety would be greatly increased without a well-marked and well-known pirate to deal with.

Jack had promised the children that Will would live. 

There was still enough strength left to make sure that one of them survived.

"I'll trade.  Please.  You've wanted me for . . . long time . . . you can have me . . . just let . . . boy go . . ."

Jack knew his words weren't differentiable to anyone listening.  It didn't matter.  The darkness was thickening around him, questioning, searching for deception . . .

And it was backing off from Will.

Jack gasped in shock as the dark suddenly encompassed all, neatly severing the link that he had worked so hard to hold together.

They had reached an accord.

Responses to Reviews:

Aratfeniel:  Little brothers can give you a whole new outlook on things, can't they?  As for the destination . . .still a fair while in the future, but I promise that there is one.  Sorry about your wrist.  Broken bones are just absolutely no fun at all.

Kayden Eidyak:  Thank you for the list, which did make the final cut.  Yes, Barbossa was a very intricate, well-thought villain who fit his role perfectly.  Sorry about all the cliffies . . .they're just so tempting to write . . .Also, thanks for the record.  A review for every chapter of my story—quite impressive.  I'm working on earning my betaing position, too.

Merrie:  Thanks for all the compliments, and I hope you haven't damaged your hands _too_ much with all the cliffies I've been sending your way.  _Me_ make people wait forever for updates?  Love, I've fallen into an every-Sunday-an-update pattern.  However, I cannot discern a pattern in _your_ updating, which is far too infrequent for my liking (if I haven't reviewed yet to such an effect, I shall!).  As for Michael's death . . .maybe . . .in the future . . .And please don't make your fingers bloody on my account!

Pip3:  Yes, poor Jack and everyone else, too.  Will was just being a good father, looking out for his son.

Snowbird3:  Thanks for the list, it, too, made the final cut.  Just managing to keep track of all the charries (who keep multiplying . . .I'll have to start killing people off here soon, if they don't start finding other places to be), let alone all the plots, makes this a difficult story.  Thanks for the vote of confidence in my writing abilities.  As for the way I twist and turn things . . .I think I'm starting to get predictable.  This is bad.  I'll have to do something normal so my unpredictability will again be unexpected.

Erinya:  Thanks for the compliment on my characterization of Jack.  I really don't think Jack would like immortality all that much, though I, too, would be exceedingly happy to have him be immortal.  Unfortunately, the muse keeps pointing out that _nobody_ is immortal, so he can do what he wills with anybody.  *sigh*  Stubborn Jaraen . . .

Rinkufan:  December cannot come fast enough.  I'm glad I didn't lose you too badly with the pistol thing . . .it was kind of amusing to write.  Um . . .was that a fascetious 'I love cliffhangers'?  I hope you liked this next chapter.

Jigglykat:  I am hurrying as quickly as possible, I promise!  As for people dying . . .Jaraen will do as he will do.  I have no control over my wandering muse.

Lieke:  JAMIE?!  No!  Something that horrible is not going to happen to Jamie . . .though I'll probably love reading it.  *grins sheepishly*  I'm just assuming it's Jamie something bad happens to, as he seems to be the guy in the best position for something bad to happen to him.  I started 'Outlander' at the beginning of the school year, but have had to put it aside to accommodate an excessive amount of schoolwork.  I plan on picking it up again as soon as humanly possible.  As for your compliments . . .*blushes scarlet* . . .'I love it' will more than suffice.

Cal:  I absolutely love all your reviews.  Normally people don't get to see each other's darkness, or even really their own, unless they're exceedingly introspective.  Add in the fact that Jack has been through hell, both in the movie and in my own humble additions, and the fact that he's just about the ultimate survivor, and his head can't be something where most people would be completely comfortable treading.  Or at least that's my philosophy . . .then again, I manage to scare myself in my own head, so take it with a grain (or Mac truck) of salt.  As for Michael and Hallson dying . . .not for a bit yet, assuming Jaraen decides to kill them at all.  I'm glad you liked the rescue, and the Ana/Jack scene before that.  I wouldn't mind having Jack as my shrink . . .though he could probably screw someone's mind up just as well as he could fix it.  There was a doctor in the house, and you seemed to like him, a fact which I am very grateful for.  OC's just keep multiplying . . .I just hope they keep being acceptable.  I hope your daughter is feeling better.  I'm glad you liked Francis—another OC that wasn't in the original plan who just kind of decided to pop his jaunty head in.  His relationship with Jack probably won't be improving anytime soon.

WCS Pegasus:  I will open my LJ account!  Truly!  Life will calm down and I will open it and . . .and . . .oh, boy, why can't time just stay a constant?  Thanks for the votes of confidence on my story.  I'm also working harder to keep the typos and grammatical flaws down to a bare minimum.

Starzangel:  Yes, the angst was running a bit high . . .and probably still is, but so long as Jaraen talks, I write.  Thanks for writing in.  Yes, Will is Will.  Nobody could take his place . . .though Jack is more irreplaceable.  I love your description of reading my chapters—it greatly lightened my mood, something that was needed as the time.  ;-)  As for the dénouement . . .it shall come . . .

Szhismine:  Based on your review, I would swear you wanted Will to get poisoned and die . . .hmmm . . .;-)  Glad you liked the chapters.  I hope you enjoyed this last one, even if I'm almost certainly going to hear about the cliffhanger at the end.  What am I being thanked for, by the way?  

Kanaloas Wrath:  I gave more(s).  Hope you liked the new cliffie . . .and thank you for the compliment.  One syllable can denote quite a bit.

Lavender Wonder:  I've never seen 'Signs', though I wish to.  Glad you liked the chapter, and remember, no killing main villains until closer to the end of the story.  As for waiting patiently or impatiently . . .whichever will keep you coming back but not destroy your mental equilibrium.  Thanks for the compliments on Brian, and Jack helped . . .though somehow I doubt I'll be getting thanked for allowing him to . . .

Empress Ariana:  I'm glad Brian isn't a complete failure as an OC.  I was starting to worry about him.  As for cliffhangers . . .*ducks* . . .what'd you think of this one?  I get the impression that you don't like Will very much . . .or rather, you enjoy seeing him in pain.  Hmmm.  Hope you liked the chapter.  As for the ending . . .why do I get the strange suspicion you aren't going to like the cliffhanger much?  *evil grin*

Ryuu Angel:  I love your reviews.  Just don't get into trouble in Chem on my account . . .feel free to read in chemistry, just ensure you don't get caught.  ;-)  I've started quoting Jack lately, too . . .I thought one of my Center compatriots was going to stab me with a pen when I said something sarcastic and finished the statement with 'love'.  *sighs*  Not an experience I wish to repeat . . .Jaraen gladly gobbled down the cookie, too, though you scared him a bit with your reaction to his third drabble . . .it took me forever to get him to crawl out from under the bookcase.  ;-)  As for killing people . . .Jaraen has informed me in no uncertain words that he is going to completely ignore my life-preserving stats.  *sigh*  See this chapter for further proof.  For my story, Jack can speak Enlgish (really?), Spanish relatively fluently, and French apparently not-so-fluently, given the problems I'm having with that.  He also knows just a bit of Dutch and some of the Indian dialects—the better to threaten people with.  Not everything Jack says is supposed to make sense to you lovely readers right now.  I promise that it all will eventually.  As for productivity . . .why does productivity in the eyes of the parental figures never equal productivity in our eyes?  *scratches head in bewilderment*  Ah, yes, funny ol' world . . .

Kissravyn:  Thanks for writing in and saying you liked the chapter.

Hollow-Ambitions:  I have no idea why you'd get the feeling it would be Jack who isn't going to be all right in the end . . .I'm glad you like the link.  You're going to kill Bootstrap?  This is not good . . .update your story soon!  As for my killing Will . . .well, you've probably read the chapter . . .Should I hide somewhere now in mortal fear?  

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  Oh . . .happiness and then misery . . .so sorry 'bout that.  I would like to say this chapter helped, but I get the sneaking suspicion that it probably didn't.  I'm sorry I make your emotions conflict, even if it is a compliment to my writing.  ;-)  As for the review for chapter 16 . . .I'm taking that as worry about Jack . . .very perceptive individual, you are . . .

Zinnith:  I completely understand life running away with you (including it running away to somewhere that has no computer).  If you truly want Hallson's ear now, you can have it . . .just make sure to cauterize the injury so he doesn't do something like bleed to death, as I shall need him in the future.  As for not killing Will . . .I think a lot of people will probably be screaming 'kill Will' in their reviews for this chapter . . .Your reviews are never uninteresting, either.  Go ahead and keep shouting.  I listen.  And I agree—whoever decided work needed to be done during daylight hours should be forced to walk the plank.

ElvenPirate41:  Ah.  Pink Floyd.  Well, I'm glad my story somehow managed to help with your depression . . .not sure how, but still I am glad.  ;-)  Thanks for all the compliments, and yes, isn't it amazingly possible that Jack would argue with a ten-year-old?  Glad you liked the pistol code.  Thanks for your reviews of my LotR fic, which is not abandoned, just back-burnered until Jack decides he's tired of playing.  As for your thing for older guys in movies . . .I'm afraid I've contracted the same strange disease.  Just enjoy it.  Fantasies can't hurt anyone.  ;-)  Isn't 'why not' the perfect response to any question you don't want to answer that involves 'why'?  I did tie stuff into my hair for Halloween, lots of glittery, gold, silver, sparkly things . . .'twas quite fun.  I've started calling my younger brother an 'obnoxious whelp' . . .he doesn't like it very much.  Thanks for the lovely review for last chapter—I absolutely love the way you pick out the quotes to show me exactly which parts you like, which parts strike you.  It helps me immensely as the author.  Hope you enjoyed the last chapter, as well.

Snow-Angel222:  The project was successfully completed.  Thank you for inquiring.  I hope you've enjoyed what I've written so far.

Shadowfax:  *blink*  Okay.  No monkeys.  Understood.  I'm glad you like Brian.  He thanks you for remembering him, too.

Wellduh:  I shall continue until such time as the story is completed.  Have no fear on that score.  And yes, aftermath does have a tendency to be nasty and messy.

Lunatic:  They were saved from the mean people.  Now they just need to be saved from themselves.  I'm glad you dislike Michael so much, and that I've managed to keep you on the edge of your seat.

BrokenSkye:  I shall keep writing.  You have my word as a dishonest person on that.  I'm glad someone picked up on what I'm doing with Jack.  I was beginning to wonder if I was being overly-subtle, what with everything else that's happening in the story.  As for letting Will die . . .if you've read the chapter, you probably aren't sure if you should kill me for killing Will or not . . .or kill me for _not_ killing Will . . .

JackFan2:  My lovely beta-friend.  Jaraen is currently relatively happy, and reconsidering the end to the story.  Thank you for all your help, and for reviewing and questioning when you already have a basic idea of what shall happen.  And I still love imagicons, too.  ;-)

Cheezepies:  You read the chapter, hopefully, my friend.  Did I kill Will?  Should I die for what I did?  ;-)

Rat:  Thank you for the compliment.  Your writing is very good, too.  I hope you liked this chapter, as well, and are still looking forward to more.

Ginny-Star:  Yes, Michael is evil.  It is very fun to tie and braid things into your hair.  I did such for Halloween.  As for parental units . . .aren't they such lovely fun with an atrocious sense of timing?

Scorched Frog:  You probably liked this chapter . . .then again, maybe not.  I hope you liked the cliffhanger.  Also, nitpicky is good.  I like nitpicky.  I'll work on giving equal precedence to all the characters and their reactions.  I've just collected so many of them that juggling is starting to become rather stressful.  Trying to decide whose POV to use takes nearly as much time as actually writing the chapter.  You might see other POV popping up in my folder for drabbles and lost scenes, especially as I near the end of this story, where deciding POV is going to be virtually impossible.

Special Eddie:  Obsessions are a problem?  *blink*  I'm up a creek without one paddle and with the other one missing the blade, with a hole in the boat that is letting in water and an alligator swimming rather hungrily behind me . . .Hope you enjoyed this update as much as you apparently did the last parts.

Scanner-Cat-Scat:  I will read the rest of your story!  Promise!  Thanks for the reviews of the stuff collected in my drabbles folder, and for the review of chapter 16.

Jrozek:  No panicking allowed.  I would never ditch a story in the middle like that.  It would be far too cruel to the loyal readers.  I hope to satisfy your curiosity in a satisfactory manner.

Pinkyiolis:  Thanks for writing in.  I'm grateful for the compliments, and hope you continue to enjoy my version of the future of 'Pirates' . . .which might be taking on alternate dimensions after this story . . .

Gypsie-Fire:  I like long reviews.  Truly.  It gives me an excuse to not work on homework.  I think Jaraen might just write a humorous drabble about Jack fighting with Death . . .you have given me inspiration!  This could be considered a bad thing.  I hope your school craziness sorts itself out soon . . .mine hasn't, but it's backed off a little bit (or rather, I stopped caring as much).  Yes, Halloween does strange things to the mind, the candy being the least of the problems.

Dohgzmania:  You didn't disappear!  You were just busily reading everything between the middle of AToM and this part of TLaP.  I'm glad I can bring some light into your day.  It makes me feel useful, something I like being.  Thanks for the compliments.

Lauren:  I know you wrote me personally, but I just wanted to say thanks.  That helped.  A lot.


	18. Chapter 18: Breathe

Disclaimer:  I still own Jaraen, though I'm not sure how much claim I want to lay to him as he attempts to get us both lynched . . .

AN:  Okay, this is a special chapter, done when it probably shouldn't have been (ie during Spanish class, during Government class, during Calc class) just because I felt bad leaving you guys in the lurch.  Thus it is four days early, and there are no responses to reviews.  If I get the next chapter done by Sunday (my normal posting day) I'll put that up with responses to reviews.  Hope you enjoy.  *nibbles nervously at fingers*

AN2:  Before I forget (once again) a huge thank you to Erin, Kayden, and JackFan2, for giving this canine a couple kicks in the rear with regards to posting this chapter despite her nervousness about it.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 18**

Numbness.

Complete and total numbness.

It was a sensation he was intimately familiar with, having experienced it twice before.

His own ragged breaths added a whispering counter-rhythm to the drumming of his erratic heart, a drumming that seemed to encompass everything else as it faltered, slowed . . .

_Not yet.  Please._

The darkness didn't retreat, but it didn't proceed any further, either, leaving him a few moments to accomplish his goal.

Captain Jack Sparrow refused to die in bed with a man, brother or not . . .make that especially brother.  It just wouldn't leave him with the reputation he desired.

Plus, if Will woke up, Jack would rather he didn't immediately see the fruits of the bargain that had been struck on his behalf.

He wasn't entirely certain how he managed to get to his feet, just that he was suddenly relatively vertical and taking one uncertain step through the darkness . . .and a second, more lurching one . . .and a third . . .

"Jack, it's all right."  Strong arms were wrapping around him, protective, caring, gentle.  The pirate allowed his wavering body to collapse, each breath coming harder and harder, burning in his lungs.

Ana-Maria's arms were a good place to die.

"Oh, Lord, you're cold as ice.  Jack?  Jack, talk to me, love."

Was he lying down, or was she holding him, cradling him like she did through the bars of their cells?  Either way, she was definitely there.  He could feel her presence, even if he couldn't discern her touch on his numb skin.

"Love ye."  It took an extraordinary amount of effort to force the words out so that they might be coherent, and for a few moments it was impossible to breath as the darkness continued to claim him.

"Hush, ye bloody daft fool.  I know."

Good.  It was good that she knew.  He sincerely doubted he had the strength to say it again . . .to say anything again.

Courteous had definitely turned to demanding.

"Elizabeth, is Will . . ."

"No.  I . . .I think he's breathing easier . . .I'm certain of it."  Elizabeth's voice fell to a whisper, making it impossible for him to discern what she was saying.

"What d' ye mean _easier_?  Oh, damn ye, Jack Sparrow, ye wouldn't . . .ye didn' . . . "

_Trade_.  _Bargain.  Accord._

Even thinking the words was becoming nigh on impossible, awareness darkening and slowing down, leaving him alone and vulnerable to whatever games Death wished to play.

"Jack, don't ye dare, don' ye dare do this t' me!  _Jack!_"

The darkness parted slightly and he could feel her lips against his mouth, feel the rush of warm, humid air that filled lungs he hadn't even noticed had stopped working for themselves.

Once . . .twice . . .three times . . .she was panting slightly, the air less fresh but now dripping with her own unique taste as she forced it into his unresisting body.

"Jack, fight this!  There's no bloody damn reason for ye t' die!  Breathe!  I can't keep doin' it for ye.  Please, Jack."

Breathe?  He could do that, to make her happy, less angry . . .he shouldn't die when she was angry at him . . .it wasn't right . . .

The first attempt at breathing accomplished little, the small gasp barely drawing air into his mouth, let alone his lungs.  The second was better, and the third one could almost be taken as a full breath, a full, panting, terrifying breath.

The darkness still surrounded him, though, seeping into his bones, into the fabric of his being, and he knew he couldn't fight it forever.

He would try, though.  To make her happy, he would try.

"That's it, Jack.  That's it.  Just keep doin' that, love, and I'll see what I can do about warmin' ye up, all right?  Ye jus' keep hangin' on, Jack."

Were those her fingers brushing his chest?

Was that even what he was feeling?  Or was it another probe from the darkness, harder and more insistent, clawing at his heart this time?

Ana-Maria wouldn't be able to help with that.  They'd never played with ways to share a heartbeat . . .

"What are you doing?  How can I help?"  Elizabeth.  Her voice was strange, almost choked, combining joy and grief and guilt and a million other emotions that he couldn't wrap his mind around to name at the moment.

"I'm tryin' t' warm him up.  Feel his skin.  He's cold as ice . . .cold as the grave.  I need blankets, and if there's anything hot t' drink that might help.  Other than that, jus' stay with yer husband and help him.  If I lose Jack, it had better damn well be for a reason."

It was getting harder to breathe again, the air seeming too heavy and sluggish to move through his lungs.

"Jack, love, I'm just sitting ye up now, all right?  Jus' goin' t' try t' warm ye up.  Don' do anythin' rash like stopping that breathing, savvy?"  Maybe that shifting motion wasn't entirely in his head, then.  "Jack, ye're still breathin', right?  Come on, cap'n.  Don' ye quit on me."

He wasn't quitting.  Captain Jack Sparrow never quit.

But he could lose.

That must be what he was doing now.

Her lips were on his mouth again, forcing the warm, humid air into his lungs.  "Jack Sparrow, what'd I tell ye 'bout breathin'?"

Right.  Keep breathing.  All he had to do was keep breathing.

He could feel his own heart slowing again, skipping beats, changing rhythm, but there was still no pain.  In fact, it was rather exhilarating, a strange sensation that he had never felt before and would never get to again.

Death had already claimed him.

It was just a matter of the darkness convincing the rest of the world that he was gone.

"What happened?"  So Brian's pet medic had decided it was time to join the game . . .the last game . . .

That wasn't really fair to the man, though.  His only crime so far had been interfering in events outside his scope of knowledge . . .far, far outside any of their knowledge . . .

"I don't know, not for sure, but I think . . .I think . . .God damn ye, Jack Sparrow, keep breathin'!  This is gettin' old real fast."

It wasn't really fair, damning him for that.  He was _trying_ to breathe.  It wasn't his fault that he was dead . . .dying . . .both . . .

Except it was.  This time it was his fault, and not just inadvertently due to stupidity or stubbornness.  He had willingly traded his life for Will's.

God help him, he had _chosen_ death.

"Thank you, Elizabeth.  If you wouldn't mind going and watching your husband . . .I don't trust what's happening here, not with these two.  Captain Sparrow, if you can hear me, we need you to cooperate.  Your body temperature is very low.  We're trying to raise it.  You need to drink this.  It's just water, but the warmth is what we need to get inside you.  On the count of three you stop breathing, swallow, and then start breathing again, understood?  One . . .two . . .three."

Liquid was suddenly filling his mouth.  Swallowing took a bit more concentration than it normally would have, but it was still a manageable act.

What wasn't manageable was the pain that flared through his chest and gut as soon as he swallowed.

This wasn't warmth.

It was fire, a creeping, crawling, liquid fire that brought awareness back to numb, deadened flesh.

If he could have summoned enough energy to scream, he would have.

"-ll right, Jack, it's all right.  I have ye.  It's all right.  Are ye certain this is _helping_ him?"

Someone was whimpering and gasping at the same time . . .whimpering and gasping in time with his own treasonous lungs . . .

Oh, hell, that would never do.  Captain Jack Sparrow did _not_ whimper like a whipped dog.

"Yes, it's helping.  We need to get as much heat into his body as quickly as we can.  That means working from both the inside and the outside.  I'm assuming you're going to be the one holding him in the blankets.  Direct skin-to-skin contact is the best way to transfer heat from one body to another."

"Not a problem.  Ye jus' keep hangin' on, Jack."

He was hanging on.  He was hanging on as hard as he could . . .the only problem was finding things to hang on _to_.

"Rub his chest.  Perfect.  Just like that.  Any extra way you can find to pour heat into him or onto him, use it."

"When he starts shivering, that's good, right?  It means he's out of danger."

"Normally once they start shivering you're basically guaranteed that they're going to be all right if you keep them warm.  Then again, I've never had a patient before who's trying to freeze to death on a perfect Caribbean summer day."

Well, it would be a unique death, at least . . .

"He's not goin' t' die, doctor."

"I believe you.  If there's anything Elizabeth or I can get you or help you with, yell.  I need to see how Turner's doing."

Footsteps.  Well, it seemed his audience for his last moments was dwindling rather rapidly.  Taking care of the lad was a damn good reason to leave the show early, though.

"Ye hear that, Jack Sparrow?  Even the bloody Royal Navy has faith in yer immortality."

Immortal . . .?

Someone forgot to forward notification of that fact to Death.

"Jack, I think I know what ye did, and if ye succeed I swear I'll kill ye."

Well, that threat didn't make much sense . . .

"Any way ye could maybe talk t' me, Jack?  Or e'en just open your eyes or . . .just somethin' to let me know ye're still in there and fightin' . . ."

He was still breathing, wasn't he?  That was fighting.  Talking would take a lot more coordination and effort . . .

"Damn ye, Jack Sparrow, ye aren't supposed t' die like this."

How _was_ he supposed to die?  This was at least less messy than most of Death's other attempts had been.

"Oh, Jack . . .ye stubborn damn fool . . ."

Was it normal for people to insult someone as they cried over them?

  
Cried.

Crying.

Ana-Maria was crying over him because he didn't have the will to try and reassure her.

"Quit . . ."  Pause, inhale, fight back the dark.

"Damnin' me . . ."  Inhale again.

"Got 'nough . . ."  Gasp a bit and keep going.  This wasn't so very difficult.

"Strikes 'gainst . . ."  It was taking an absurd amount of time to convey a relatively simple message . . .an unimportant message.

"Already . . ."  Just one more word, one more reassurance that actually meant something, a message all into and of itself.  Then all he had to do was focus on breathing again.

"Love."

It had been worth it.  Laughter joined the crying for a second before both were stifled.

Ana-Maria's voice was thick now, speaking of more unshed tears.  "All right, ye bloody daft pirate.  Can ye feel what I'm doin', Jack?"

Usually the woman was trying to shut him up.

Now that he wanted to shut up, all she wanted him to do was talk.

"No."  It didn't seem to take as much concentration to talk now . . .and it drove the darkness back a bit, or at least held it at bay.

"But ye can hear me fine?"

"All . . .o' ye."

The darkness was digging deeper again, clawing its way beneath his skin, into his mind and heart, making focusing nearly impossible.

Not long now . . .

"'M . . .sorry . . .love."

"Sorry for what?"

"Lettin' him . . ._hurt_ . . .you."

"Jack . . .Jack, I still don't remember . . .everything he did, but none of it was because of you or in any way your fault.  I trust ye, Jack.  I love ye.  Don' let me down.  Please."

"Should've done . . .more . . .but didn't . . .let go . . . this time . . .least . . ."

"No, ye didn't let go of him, and I'm not letting go of you, Jack Sparrow.  Come on, cap'n, start shiverin' for me.  I think I'm doin' enough for the both of us here."

Shiver?  Why would he want to shiver?  He wasn't cold . . .not cold at all . . .

"Jack, don't stop talkin'.  What'd you mean 'this time'?  Tell me what ye meant, Jack.  Talk to me."  There was desperation tingeing her voice now.

"Doe'n't . . .matter."  Breathing was becoming a problem again.

"It does matter, Jack, if it'll keep ye talkin', keep ye here.  Tell me about it."

"Dead men . . .aren't . . .s'posed . . .t' tell . . .tales . . ."

"Ye're not dead, and ye aren't goin' t' _become_ dead, Jack Sparrow.  Tell me a tale, love.  E'en if it's the most insane nonsense I've e'er heard, I promise not t' say a word against it."

"Can't . . ."

"Can't or won't tell me, Jack?  What can be so bad that ye can't share it with me?"

What, indeed?  There was a reason the past was past.

"Is it about that girl?  The one ye were talkin' 'bout before?"

"San . . ."

God above, he hadn't thought about her in over two decades, not since William Turner found him and saved his life and some semblance of his sanity.  Why did she insist on haunting him now?

_Because you promised me, Jack . . .you promised me, my very own Captain Sparrow . . .I gave you a name and a home and a rank and you gave me a promise . . ._

  
"Kept it . . .tried t' . . .best . . .could . . ."

Breathing just didn't seem worth the effort anymore.

"Jack, what in Hell do ye think ye're doin'?  You are _not_ giving up now!"  Lips sealed over his again, forcing him to accept the life-giving gift of air.

She really needed to stop doing that and just let him go.  All this was doing was postponing the inevitable.

_That's right, Jack.  Just postponing the inevitable.  You belong to me._

That didn't seem very much like something San would have said.  She knew better than to claim him.  She had called him Captain before he ever set foot on board a boat.

"Cheated . . ."

"Jack?  Who cheated?"

"Death . . ."

"Ye cheated death?"

"Tried . . .cheat . . .me."

"Jack, please just start shiverin'."

"Promised . . ."

"Promised what?  Promised who?  Jack . . ."

"Promised . . .her mum . . .watch out . . .for them . . .but I . . .couldn't . . .couldn' . . .stop . . .him . . ."

Was he still breathing?  It was getting harder and harder to tell.

"Jack, what happened?  What happened to her?"  Ana-Maria's voice had fallen to a whisper.

"He . . ._hurt_ . . .her . . .and I . . .I . . .killed . . .her . . .and let . . .let the . . .boy . . .let . . .m' brother . . .go . . ."

"Jack, I want ye t' take another drink, all righ'?  And then I want ye t' tell the story.  Count of three again, savvy?  One . . .two . . .three."

Again the wash of liquid fire flared through his body, but he ignored it, too busy watching the darkness to ensure that it didn't venture any nearer.  It was already far too close.

"Jack?  Ye all right?"

No.  Dying . . .or dead . . .whichever it was, it could not be considered an 'all right' thing to be.

"Jack, tell me the story.  Please."

"Why?"

"Because ye're hurtin' and I want t' know why.  Because ye're dyin' over somethin' I don't understand and I want to understand."

Her voice stopped abruptly.

"Ye aren't dyin'.  I still want t' hear, though."

"Dyin' . . .for Will . . .held on . . .for him . . ."

"Hold on t' me . . .hold on for me."

"Tryin' . . ."

"How old were ye?"

How old was he when?  She needed a more specific question if she really wanted him to wrap his mind around it at the moment.

"Jack, how old were ye when ye promised San's mother . . .whatever it was ye promised?"

There.  That was specific.

"Ten . . .day b'fore . . .she died . . .knew . . .her husband . . .couldn' manage t' . . .care for 'em proper.  So she trusted . . .Jack . . .t' make sure . . .they survived."

"What happened, Jack?"

"Her da . . .didn' handle . . .death well.  Got drunk . . .got mean . . .hit her.  Hard.  Bad.  She was . . .bleedin'.  Tried t' . . .help, stop 'im from . . .touchin' her . . .or Ana or Thomas . . .think . . .think he went after 'er b'cause she looked . . .looked lot like her . . .mother . . .pretty.  He didn' . . .didn' like me . . .anyway.  Always said I was . . .dirty street-rat . . .didn' deserve . . .t' be in his . . .'ouse, with 'is fam'ly . . .eatin' 'is food.  Laid int' me . . .when I got in 'is way . . .t' keep 'im from hittin' 'er 'gain . . .bloodied me up . . .real bad.  Thought I . . .was dead."

A convulsive shudder ran through his body, bringing flying shards of pain that lanced smoothly through the numbness.

"That's it, Jack . . .come on . . .start shiverin'.  What happened t' ye after he beat ye?"

"Ran . . .ran t' . . .t' the sea.  Didn' go back . . .for four years."  The comfortable numbness had returned, the dark edging closer and closer with it.

"And when ye went back?"

"Found 'er . . .ended up . . .in 'er bed.  She wasn' . . .a virgin . . .wasn't right . . .don' touch family . . .like tha' . . ."

Ana-Maria was silent for a long time . . .almost too long.  Breathing was again becoming an impossibility.

"Jack . . .Jack, her father . . .her father raped her?"

"Aye . . ."

Had she even heard the whisper?

The dark was no longer creeping, no longer watching or testing.  It was inside him, in his lungs, freezing his breath.  Tendrils were already grasping for his heart, causing it to slow . . .

"Jack!  Jack, not now, not after hangin' on for so long!  Jack, stay with me!"  She was trying to breathe for him again, but it wasn't working.

Death was tired of waiting.

"God, no, please no.  Not like this.  There's still so much . . .so bloody much . . .we had to do.  Jack, I need ye.  How am I supposed to commandeer a ship and go traitor-hunting alone?  Jack . . ."

Traitor-hunting?

Michael.  Something about Michael . . .

"Ye swore . . .I heard ye . . .ye swore that ye would kill him.  Ye can't very well go killin' anyone if ye're dead yerself."

He had sworn three times that he would see the traitor dead.

"Jack . . .please.  For me."

Ana-Maria needed him.

He had sworn he would see Michael dead.

"Oh, God, please, don't let him die.  Give him back.  He isn't supposed to die, not now.  Just because he let some naïve blacksmith slip past his guard . . .there's no bloody damn _reason_ for him to die!  Let him _go_!"

"Ana-Maria, let go.  You did all that could possibly be expected of you.  Some things are just outside the control of mankind."

"That's why I'm not asking anything of ye, doctor.  Now take your hands off me or I will take them off your body.  Jack . . .Jack, if ye can still hear me, love, please come back."

He had his lover to protect and a traitor to kill.  He had bound himself to kill the traitor.  It was something he _had_ to do before he could die.

_No.  I already own you, Captain Sparrow.  We struck a bargain.  Your life for the whelp's._

Make an exception.

_You don't have the power to command me anymore, Sparrow.  You're far too far gone for that.  Just accept it._

Fingers curled into his hair and her lips were at his mouth again, still attempting to drag him back.

Her fingers.

In his hair.

He could _feel_ her, the warmth of her touch nearly searing his skin.

"Jack . . ."  Tears.  Those were tears falling on his face.

Every fiber of his being seemed to scream in protest as he latched onto those feelings with the same stubborn determination that had kept him alive and relatively sane in the past.

He wanted to live.

He _needed_ to live.

The first breath brought with it the pain, pain he hadn't felt before in the darkness-induced numbness.  His chest ached and burned as though some large animal had repeatedly kicked him.  His head was pounding as though it wanted to explode.  His left knee, which for the last year would on occasion stiffen or send a twinge of remembered pain along his leg, was burning as though someone had lit a fire in it.

For a moment he stood poised on the brink of life, deciding whether it was worth it to fight, the darkness still clawing at him, in a frenzy now that something had provided him with a means of escape.

Then he was shivering convulsively, every inch of his body wracked by tremors that only seemed to increase in size until he thought that they must surely tear him apart.

That, too, eventually passed, and he found himself cradled again in loving arms.

"That's it, Jack, you come back t' me.  I've got you.  Jack?  Do ye think ye can open your eyes?"

It seemed a safe enough request.

He instantly regretted acquiescing to it.

_Mine, Jack Sparrow.  You're mine.  They had no right to interfere.  You still belong to me._

_No!_

He hadn't been lying to Will when he said that he could see Death, or when he said that it could be male or female depending on how you were going.  Perhaps it was simply his own perspective, skewed by one too many close encounters.

This was the first time Death had decided to look like someone he knew, though . . .or had known.

"Jack?  Jack, what's wrong?"

"Ana-Maria . . ."  Even when he forced his eyes to focus on only her face, an edge of darkness clouded his vision.

"Jack, everything's all right."

"Not dead."

"No."

"Don't belong to her . . .him . . .it . . ."

"No, Jack, ye belong here, with me."

"Here . . ."

_Liar, Jack.  Such a wonderfully talented liar.  You belong to me._

It was impossible to ignore the voice, whispering directly into his mind, into his heart and soul.

"Ana-Maria . . ."  It was getting hard to breathe again, but that might simply be his own panic.

"Here, Jack.  Ye belong here with me."

It was good to hear someone else speak the words, give them meaning.  He nodded, his gaze dropping from her face with the movement . . .

"Your shirt isn't fastened."

"I had a bloody daft frozen pirate t' warm up.  Ye aren't wearin' a shirt at all."

"Oh."  It took a minute for the meaning of the words to clarify.  "I belong here."

"Ye belong here."

_Not quite, Jack._

"Leave me 'lone."  Shaking his head didn't help to dislodge or silence the voice.

"Jack?  Jack, what is it?"

"I belong . . .with _you_."

The kiss obviously caught her off guard, but she still responded.

She grabbed both his hands before he could do anything more.

"Please . . .need you . . .help me . . ."

"I'm here for ye, Jack, but ye can't do tha' now.  Too many people."

_Mine, Jack.  Mine to claim when I will._

"Shut up . . .oh, please God, make her shut up . . ."

"Jack?"

"Not you . . .help me . . ."

"All right, Jack.  On your feet."

The getting up part was simple.  It was the balancing part that proved difficult, but a firm arm beneath his shoulder kept him from falling over as she led him through the few shaky steps.

Maybe he could balance better if he wasn't was seeing his first true lover stalking around him, throwing down claims that he couldn't refute.

The sound of the cabin door shutting was all the permission he could wait for as tendrils of cold again began to snake along his body.

"Love you . . ."

"I know . . .daft fool . . ."

Conscious thought deteriorated rapidly as he threw himself onto her, heedless of pain anywhere.

He refused to be claimed by death again.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Ana-Maria gently stroked stray strands of beaded hair off his face, listening with true and total awe to his steady, rhythmic breathing.

He had drawn blood.  With both his fingers and his teeth, he had drawn blood, marked her as his . . .and she had responded in kind, not caring what had happened, living in the moment, for the moment.

It all seemed so incredibly absurd.

He had traded his life for Will's.  He had admitted as much to her.

He had willingly traded his bloody life for another man's . . .traded his life despite what they were to each other.

There hadn't been true anger before.  Terror, grief, despair, but not anger.

He had abandoned her.

Yet he also came back to her, to her specifically . . .

Or something came back.

Half of what he had said hadn't seemed to be directed to her but rather to a being that didn't exist.

People could only die so many times before insanity had to take hold.

His breathing was so fascinating, so easy now, not given to sudden failure as it had been for far too long.

"I love ye, Jack."  The whispered words seemed to bring a smile to his face, usually but not always a good sign.

"I just don' know if I can live with ye."

He shivered as she pulled away from him and climbed out of the bed.  A few deft movements had him firmly entwined in the already body-heat-laden blankets, leaving her free to see what had been happening on the rest of the ship while they fought a hard-won battle for survival.

Jack would be safe until she got back.  She would be incredibly surprised if he didn't simply sleep for at least a day.

It just looked like Brian would be wanting new accommodations for a bit . . .and probably new blankets and sheets when he finally reclaimed his bed.


	19. Chapter 19: Blood and Life

**To Love and Protect**

**Chapter 19**

"You're certain there's no sign of him?"  Hallson leaned forward, his fists planted firmly on the desk, staring hard at the officer in front of him.

"Aye, sir.  I took the _Defender_ over all his normal haunts and routes within quick range.  The man's too intelligent to be that predictable, sir.  Wherever he is, we won't find him by going where he should be."

"That's assuming you wish to find him at all, something I'm beginning to doubt, _Captain_."  Michael snarled the words, pacing along the side of the room.

Jenkin just barely turned his head, gazing at the mercenary while still keeping his commander in his peripheral vision.  "I resent the implications of your statement."

"Resent them all you like.  I don't think you're even looking for the boy."  Sparrow and Lanebridges had been gone for four days now, making the likelihood of finding them without some sort of guidance about the same as that of pigs falling from the sky.

"If I had been informed immediately that Captain Lanebridges had taken the prisoners on board the _Intrepid_, perhaps we wouldn't have been so far behind in to begin with."

"Is it my fault this rathole is infested with traitors?"

"Michael, that will be more than enough.  Captain Jenkin has proved his loyalty many times in the past.  He is not on trial here, nor are my men."

"Sir, he . . .I couldn't well sound the alarm when I wasn't even conscious!"

"I still say the likelihood that you tripped over your own two feet is just as great as the likelihood that some unknown person hit you over the head and shoved you down the staircase."  The captain stared disdainfully at the mercenary, a small sneer tugging at his upper lip.  "I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to hit you."

"Jenkin, that will be more than enough from you, as well.  Bickering amongst ourselves is not going to make the man simply appear!"  Hallson emphasized the point by slamming both hands down flat on the desk before straightening.

"What if I don't wish to have any part of this anymore?"  Michael knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.  Jenkin froze in a perfect attention posture, his well-honed military survival instincts schooling his expression into complete impassiveness as the commodore rounded on the mercenary.

"What?"  Hallson's left hand was twitching at his side, and Michael thanked the god he truly didn't believe in that the man didn't wear his pistol on that side.

"I want the money you owe me and I want out."  The thing was already started.  He might as well push on.

"You are still under contract.  You won't see a bloody pound until I have Sparrow's body in hand.  If you wished to leave anyway . . .well, I'm sure you know where the door is."  Michael hesitated a moment.  He wanted his money . . .but he valued his life more, and becoming embroiled in military power squabbles was not a good way to safeguard his head.

Before he could decide if he wished to leave Hallson spoke again.

"However, I don't make any guarantees about the . . .friendliness . . .of my men should you decide to leave before fulfilling your contract."

The mercenary fought the urge to snarl as he nodded stiffly.

Jenkin relaxed slightly, a faint grin on his face as he glanced at the mercenary before turning his full attention to his commander.

"Sir, I'd like permission to properly re-provision the _Defender_.  She isn't going to be going anywhere with a half-starved crew and little water."

"Granted.  Go and see to your ship.  I'll send for you when I determine what course of action we should take."

"Aye, sir."  Michael continued to stare at the floor as the captain exited.  The mercenary's jaw was clenched so tightly it almost hurt.

"Michael."

"Aye?"  Michael raised his gaze slowly.

"You will get your money and I will get my ship and my prisoners.  Don't worry."

"Why should I worry?  Just because you let a captain who's still little more than a bloody _whelp_ just sail away with your prisoners . . .have you heard what Sparrow does to people who betray him?"

"If you mean the tales of what he did to Barbossa, yes, I have.  I find them rather . . .entertaining.  Surely you don't believe he really plucked out the man's eyes to feed to the monkey and ate the brain himself."

"Whatever he did, Barbossa is just as dead.  As for me . . .I didn't just betray him, oh no, I sank his bloody damned _ship_ that he loved, killed his crew, and branded his woman!  He's a better swordsman than me, Frederick.  I know it, you know it, he knows it . . .He knows my tricks now.  He'll be ready."

"Knowing about a poison doesn't make it any less effective.  You will do what needs to be done."  Hallson turned away, pacing slowly over to the window.  "Oh . . .and don't forget, you killed one of his closest friends, as well."

Michael sighed, dropping his gaze back to the floor again.  "Turner."

"The Royal Navy protects those who serve her well.  As for Lanebridges being little more than a whelp . . .well, then, he must be one of the smartest, luckiest whelps in the world, mustn't he?  Now, where would you go if you were him?"

"I have no idea.  You're Navy . . .you know where he'd go better than I would."

"You see, that's the problem.  I think he's intelligent enough to know not to go somewhere I would go looking for him . . .unless of course he assumes I wouldn't look there and thus that it is safest to go where I would go looking for him."

The mercenary fought the urge to scream.  This was going to be a long discussion at this rate.

"You think Johnson is infested with traitors, do you?"  Hallson was still facing away from the mercenary, apparently watching the sky through the window with rapt interest, his left hand still twitching spasmodically at his side.

"There has to have been someone helping the boy, and Turner had to stay somewhere while they plotted.  I sincerely doubt we could have missed his staying in the fort proper."

"Yes, that's true.  So where would he run?  Fresh out of danger, a child and his wife to protect, another child he feels he should save . . .where would he run?"

Michael bit back the sharp retorts that immediately sprang to his lips.  Turner had been well known and well liked.  There were probably over a dozen places he could have stayed.  "I don't know."

"I think he would run to the man with the best connections . . .the best ability to surreptitiously slip into and out of the fort without drawing suspicion . . .the best chance of understanding . . ."

Hallson paused, and Michael realized belatedly that a reply was expected.  "Who do you think he stayed with, sir?"

"I think he stayed with Robert Markson."

"Who?"  The name didn't even ring the whisper of a bell.

"Robert Markson.  The other blacksmith that Turner shares a shop with."  Hallson spun around abruptly.  "And who do you think it's most likely ex-Captain Lanebridges would have told about his future plans?"

If the man truly was intelligent, no one, but humoring the commodore seemed the best thing to do at the moment.  "Robert Markson."

"That's what my suspicion is, too.  I'd need to have him brought in quietly, of course . . .there's already enough unrest over this whole mess Lanebridges has created . . .but if I provide the man, can you make him sing as eloquently as the woman did?"

"Aye.  If you provide the man, I can provide the information."

"Good.  I take it that means that you've decided to continue our professional acquaintance?"

"Aye, Commodore.  It appears I'll be staying on a bit."  Not that he wished to . . .it was just the safest, most profitable choice at the moment.

"I'm very pleased to hear that.  You won't regret it, either.  Not at all."

Michael grimaced as he turned and left.

He had this sinking feeling he was going to regret everything that he had done since he heard of Frederick Hallson.

He just hoped the ultimate culmination of his fears would be far, far in the future.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The cold was the first thing he noticed.  It wasn't the deep, bone-chilling numbness he had felt before, just a faint chill, but it was more than enough of a reminder of all that had happened.

All that had happened . . .

Where was Ana-Maria?  She was supposed to keep the cold and the darkness away.

Not that the cold and the darkness were a problem anymore.  Just a little bit of a chill because his lover had disappeared.  That was all it was.

He could always just open his eyes and look for her.  There wasn't any danger that he would see the darkness or death . . .

No danger at all.

No way in Hell was he afraid to look.

_Mine, Jack Sparrow . . .far too far gone to command me . . .your life for the whelp's . . ._

Jack bolted upright, his eyes snapping open and frantically scanning the small cabin as he pressed his body firmly against the wall.

Was it suddenly colder . . .?

No.

No, he was just being unreasonable, foolhardy, letting an enemy he'd already beaten spook him this badly.

He'd won.  Thanks to Ana-Maria, he'd managed to beat back the darkness, to re-stake a claim to life.

He _had_ a claim to life.

He _was_ alive, disembodied voices in his head be damned.

Maybe he had just managed to finally, irrevocably drive what little sanity he usually courted away.

_Or you could be mine . . ._

No.  No, he had died twice before, and he knew this was living.  He welcomed it with open arms.

He would be damned before he surrendered his sanity, either.

All he needed to do was get up, go find Ana-Maria or someone else, talk to them, reground himself . . .

Standing didn't seem to take any more effort than usual, and the world was actually staying relatively steady, the rocking of the ship with the waves a comforting feel beneath his feet, even if it didn't match the rhythm that the _Pearl_ held . . .had held . . .

Nothing seemed to be screaming in protest at the movements, either.  He felt pretty good for a man who had been dead not that long ago.

Very good for a man who had been dead not that long ago . . .

Too good . . .?

_Far too far gone . . ._

Jack shook his head, silencing the whispering without even bothering to decide if it was memory or something else.

He had been dead twice before.  This wasn't any different than those times had been.  Accept the fact, pretend it didn't happen, relive it in all the marvelous detail of his dreams, and eventually forget, only another set of scars to mark the course of his life . . .

Maybe that was the problem.  He had the scar on his hand from when he had broken the Aztec curse, as well as an intimate knowledge of where his sword had entered and exited his chest, the lack of scarring non-inhibitory.  He had the scars from where Will had run him through with Nerla.  He could see them, feel them, if he wished to, know that his body had taken the damage and somehow, miraculously, healed.

There was no evidence this time, though.  Only a hint of cold and the haunting whispers . . .

All he had was his own belief that he had won . . .and everyone kept insisting that his beliefs had a tendency to diverge from reality at critical points.

It didn't matter, though.  It didn't matter at all.  He was alive.

He _was_ alive.

Some kind soul had folded his clothes and placed them in plain sight at the foot of the bed.  A tray with food and a knife and fork occupied the floor in front of them.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get into the pants in the close confines of Brian's personal cabin, but he managed well enough.  His sword and pistol were beneath his pants and on top of his shirt . . .exactly the order he usually donned his clothing, the most important effects to the least important.

His sword and pistol . . .his two most important worldly possessions, the two things that had saved his life on more than one occasion.

_Far too far gone . . ._

He knew the words were only in his head, a faint shadow of the overpowering claim he had defeated . . .

He _had_ defeated it.

He _was_ alive.

Three times now . . .three times he'd met with Death face-to-face, been claimed, been _dead_ . . .and come back.

How in God's bloody name was that possible?

_Far too far gone . . ._

_Was_ it possible?

The knife was in his hand before he even realized he'd reached for it.

All he needed was a scratch, just a small one, to prove he was still alive . . .was still human . . .

The cut was swift, clean, the well-honed instrument parting the skin just below the scar he had given himself when freeing himself from Death's grip the first time.

For a moment nothing happened.  There wasn't even pain as he stared at the gash, willing it to bleed, to hurt, to do _something_ to prove he was still alive and human . . .

A faint line of crimson rose slowly and he sighed, releasing the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.  Flexing his hand caused the line to grow, blood beading at the edges and slowly inching its way down to his wrist.

A soft laugh escaped as he clenched his fist, smearing blood along his fingers and forcing more crimson beads from the shallow nick.

The world had best beware.

Captain Jack Sparrow was still alive and well.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will waited as patiently as he could at the door between Brian's personal cabin and the great cabin where he and his family had apparently taken up residence, in all probability thoroughly disrupting shipboard routine.  He had heard Jack moving about, and he wished to give the pirate enough time to get up and dressed if that was his inclination.

He had only woken approximately six hours ago, and was still trying to work out what had happened.  Even just the basic facts would be nice.  Will knew he wasn't anywhere near prepared to tackle what seemed to be a thousand nuances underlining every action that had occurred and every word that had been spoken.

His own memories of what had happened were sketchy at best.  There had been sickness, and pain, and darkness . . .and Jack.  Jack had been there through everything, lending strength, keeping the cold and the dark at bay with his own seemingly indomitable fighting spirit . . .before both Jack and the dark had abruptly vanished.

Not vanished.  Not quite.

Jack Sparrow . . ._Captain_ Jack Sparrow . . .Jack had taken his place.

Jack had died in his place.

What did you say to a man who died for you?

Thank you?

How dare you?

Look what you've done to everyone?

Ana-Maria seemed to be avoiding being with the pirate captain, coming into the cabin, pausing at the door, and either walking away or checking on him for all of maybe forty-five seconds before returning to the deck.  Elizabeth seemed to not only be avoiding Jack, but Will as well.  She had been by his bed when he woke, stayed for a few minutes, and then practically run from the cabin.

Only the children seemed completely unperturbed by what had happened, nearly knocking him down with the zeal of their greeting, eagerly taking him on a swift tour of the ship before Brian called them to order and sent them scurrying on ship's business.

Brian.  There was little change in the young captain's attitude towards him, either.  Perhaps he was a bit more formal and military than usual, but he was also standing on deck on his own ship, with a crew whose loyalty he needed now more than ever.

In fact, the only thing Will might be able to find against the young captain was his choice of ship's surgeon.  The man had seemed to find surviving fatal injury to be a strange and miraculous occurrence.  Francis had used every trick he knew to pry out answers about what had happened, not satisfied until he had heard the entire story of the link, which meant telling the story of the brotherhood, of Almorte, and of the Aztec gold, using scars as supporting evidence.

The blacksmith would never have believed someone could spend a full five minutes poking and prodding a single scar before.  The doctor was never going to get around to actually examining and treating Jack if he was planning on doing the same thing to the pirate.

A soft laugh sounded from the cabin, and Will took that as his cue to enter, a decent enough amount of time having passed.

He knocked briefly before slowly opening the door and slipping through into the somewhat cramped space, freezing in shock and disbelief as he stared at the pirate.

"Jesus, Jack . . ."

"Hello, Will.  So ye really are 'live then, too."  The pirate was grinning his trademark grin, metal flashing, a glint in his eyes that usually spoke of playfulness, of a readiness to banter or duel or some such game . . .

Usually he wasn't holding a knife in one hand as blood slid down the other, though.

"Jack . . .what . . .did you . . ."  Will paused, not certain how to continue, fearing that if he said the wrong thing the pirate might . . .

God above, how many times were things allowed to go wrong before something went their way?

"What?"  The pirate looked down at his hand and grinned even more, if that was possible, flexing his wrist and bringing more blood to the surface, clenching his fist and spreading the blood across his hand.  "This?  This is good.  I'm alive.  You're alive.  This is very good."

A drop of crimson trickled between his fingers and fell to the deck.

"Jack, give me the knife."  The most important thing was to get the knife and his sword away from the pirate.  Then they could deal with whatever he'd done to himself . . .whatever had caused him to do whatever he'd done to himself . . .

"Why?  It isn't bad, Will.  Really.  Just a scratch.  There wouldn't be any reason to make it any deeper."

"Really?  Awful lot of blood for just a scratch, Jack."

The playful light died, though the grin didn't falter at all.  "That's because I've been doin' this."  The pirate proceeded to flex his wrist and hand before clenching his fingers and drawing the hand into a fist, adding more crimson to the growing stain on his hand and wrist.

"Jack, give me the knife."

"Catch it."  The pirate captain tossed the blade into the air, catching it by the handle before Will had moved.

"Not nearly fast enough, lad.  Try again."  This time Jack tossed the knife to the side as he spun it, catching it by the blade between two fingers before tossing it into the air and grabbing it by the handle again.

"Not even going to try to play?  Isn't much fun just t' beat m'self, mate."  The pirate flexed his left hand again, apparently completely unaware of the action.

"Jack, please just _give_ . . ._me_ . . .the _knife_."

"I ask ye again, lad.  Why?  Is it because you're afraid I'll do this?"  The pirate ran the blade across his left wrist, tossed the handle into his bloody left hand, and ran the blade along his right wrist, denting the skin but not drawing so much as a drop of blood.

"Jack, don't do that."  Will inched closer to the pirate.

"Or maybe this?"  Jack again tossed the handle into his right hand, bringing the edge of the blade up to his neck and gently caressing the skin with it.  The blade paused, pressing into the skin slightly.  "Afraid ol' Jack Sparrow's had one too many tangos with the Lady Death and finally lost it?  Have a—"

Will didn't wait to hear the rest of the sentence.  The unexpected punch caused the pirate to bring both arms up in self-defense.  A moment later Will wrenched the knife out of Jack's hand and tossed it across the cabin.

"Ye hit me."  Jack rubbed slowly at his jaw, his eyes fixed on the ground as he swayed in place.

"We've enough people hunting our blood without you taking shots yourself."  The blacksmith watched the pirate carefully, wary and concerned in nearly equal measures.  Jack didn't seem quite so steady on his feet now.

"Ye hit me."  The pirate repeated the phrase in seeming disbelief as he raised his gaze to meet Will's, the grin gone and his face impassive, unreadable.

No, not unreadable.  It would have been two weeks ago, but it wasn't now.  That slight tightening of his mouth, the way his eyes were drawn together, the dullness of his gaze . . .miniscule changes, all of them, but he knew exactly what they meant now.

God above, he'd hurt the man trying to help him.

"I'm sorry, Jack.  You weren't giving me many options."  Will reached out slowly to touch the other man's arm.

The pirate flinched away from the touch.

"Even your bloody father never hit me."

The blacksmith paused, pulling his hand back, confused by the abrupt change of topic.  "My father . . .?"

"William had the right t' hit me, but he didn'.  If you'd 'ave waited, I was goin' t' say have a bit of faith, but I guess that's too much t' expect."

"Jack, let me see your hand."  Taking care of the pirate physically was far easier than trying to follow his mind games.

Jack snarled, apparently forgetting that he wasn't wearing his shirt and running his bloody left hand over his chest, leaving a line of crimson before wiping the palm on his pants and shoving his hand towards Will.  "This?  You want to see this?  _Can_ you even see it?  It's barely a scratch, William."

Jack was right.  The cut itself was barely a scratch, no deeper than a nick he would receive while reading a book, though at least an inch and a half long.

It wasn't the cut itself that was the problem, though.  It was the fact that the pirate had willfully taken a knife to his own hand with the purpose of drawing blood . . .though the fact that it was shallow was reassuring.

"Why?"

The pirate pulled his hand back abruptly, flexing it again, sending another bead of crimson trickling down his palm.  "I just wanted t' see that I was still alive."

Will opened his mouth to reply, shut it, blinked, and tried again.  "What?"

"I wanted t' see that I was still 'live."  The pirate was swaying again in place.

"Jack, sit down.  Why did you need to see you were alive?"  Jack didn't move except to flex his left hand again.  "Stop that."  Will grabbed his hand and shoved lightly at his chest, sending the pirate down onto the edge of the bed.  "Now, explain to me why you couldn't tell you were alive."

"Cold."  That one didn't need any explanation.  Will remembered the cold well enough on his own.

"Still cold?"  The pirate nodded and shivered slightly.  Will grabbed one of the blankets and sat on the bed next Jack, drawing the other man into an embrace, somewhat surprised that it didn't feel awkward at all.  "Better?"

"Aye."  Jack's body slowly relaxed, the shivering stopping and his breathing deepening and evening.

"Not falling asleep on me, are you, Jack?"

"No, whelp.  Not when you get physically violent, I'm not goin' t'."

"What else, Jack?"

The pirate sighed.  "What else what?"

"What else made you think you weren't alive?"

"Voice . . .in m' head . . .claimed me, she did . . .third time, Will, third time she claimed me."

"You heard voices?"

"Aye.  Mainly what she said 'fore . . .just remembering, I guess, but . . .seemed real enough . . ."  Jack frowned, shifting slightly.  Will used the movement to draw the pirate closer to him, further into the shared body heat.  Jack sighed again, settling down without protest.  "Definitely seemed real enough . . ."

Will nodded, keeping silent.  He knew enough to know that hearing voices was never a good sign, especially when those voices apparently belonged to abstract forces like death.

"Jack, if you ever doubt you're alive again, don't cut yourself.  Come talk to me, or talk to Ana-Maria, or to Elizabeth, or Brian, or even to the children.  Just don't cut yourself."

"How're we both still 'live?"

"What?"

Jack pulled away and turned his head to face the blacksmith, annunciating his words with unnecessary precision.  "How . . .are . . .we . . .both . . .still . . .alive?  I traded my life for yours.  If I'm not dead, why aren't you?"

"You did die.  You stopped breathing, your heart stopped working . . .Jack, you were dead.  You kept your end of the bargain.  Did you ever say how long you were going to _stay_ dead?"

The pirate stared at him for a moment before laughing softly.  "You're makin' accords like Barbossa now, lad.  If it isn't specifically stated, don't take it for granted."

"Only if it works in our favor."

"Aye, of course.  Thanks for warmin' me up."  The pirate attempted to stand, stopping and turning to stare at Will, one eyebrow raised in question.  "That would mean ye can let me go now."

"Did you ever do this before?"

"What?  Crawl into a blanket with another man?  Not since whenever I was awake last and trying to keep you breathing."

"Cut yourself."

The pirate seemed to consider Will for a moment before nodding.  "Aye.  Once.  When I was fifteen, after the world fell apart.  Your father stopped me then."

"Tell me about it?"

"Some other time.  Right now I wish to go see my lover, your wife, and the two lovely children, as well as determine where we are and what port the brilliant Captain Lanebridges is planning on setting me in.  Savvy?"

Will released his hold on the pirate captain and Jack stood, quickly slipping into his shirt before heading for the door.

The blacksmith frowned as he watched the pirate.  There was something wrong with the way he was walking.

"You're limping."

Jack froze, his back still to Will.  "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"I'm not blind, Jack.  You're limping.  What'd you do to your leg?"

The pirate turned around slowly and shrugged, his grin back in place.  "Me, dear William Turner?  _I_ didn't do a bloody thing to my leg."

Jack turned and left before Will could say anything more.


	20. Chapter 20: React

Disclaimer:  I own a recalcitrant muse who keeps running off to Australia.

AN:  I apologize profusely that this chapter is not only late, but only part of what I meant to put in it!  However, I wished to demonstrate that I am still alive, thus, here is a preview.  Hopefully I should update Sunday, my usual posting date, with the rest of the chapter (which will answer questions etc.).  *crosses fingers*

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 20**

"Jack, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that to sound the way it did."  Will resisted the urge to reach out and forcibly turn the pirate to face him.  It seemed as though every time he spoke he kept inserting his foot further into his mouth.  He honestly hadn't meant it as an accusation, that the pirate had _willfully_ done something to himself—though if he had meant it that way, it would be understandable, given the circumstances.

"It doesn't matter, lad.  Just calm down, all right?"

"All right."  If Jack wanted him to back off, he could back off . . .though knowing why the pirate was limping would still set his mind more at ease.

The pirate captain pushed through the cabin door and out on deck, blinking several times against the glare of the sun.

Will tapped the pirate on the shoulder, glancing around quickly.  "Just a word of caution.  When the children find out you're up and walk—"

"Uncle Jack!"  The girl's voice easily carried the entire length of the deck, echoed seconds later by her brother.

The blacksmith understood the kind of self-control one had to have to not bolt when your first greeting from the wide world was that of two ten-year-olds barreling into you.  Jack seemed to recover quickly from the shock, though, bending down so that he was eye-to-eye with both children, a movement that they apparently took as leave to nearly strangle him in their exuberance.

"An' hello t' ye, too."  The pirate carefully pried both sets of arms from around his neck, coughing and speaking in an exaggeratedly choked voice.  Jack's fingers wrapped into Ana's hair, pulling the silver trinket to the front and into plain sight.  "Well, this certainly has made the rounds, hasn't it?  Quite a trio we make, aye?"

The three did make quite the trio, each of them with different baubles tied into their hair.  If Will didn't have distinct memories and probably bruises from his own profuse greeting, he might have envied the pirate captain the affection the children were bestowing on him.

If the blacksmith didn't know better, he might even have taken Jack for the twin's father based on the intensity and exuberance of the children and Jack's own complacency with the situation.

The commotion the children had made had somewhat disrupted the efficient working of the sailors, several of whom were staring at the pirate and the children with expressions mixing from amused acceptance to outright disgust and distaste.  It only took him a moment to pick out Ana-Maria's dark form among the men, Elizabeth not too far to the right of her.  Both women were dressed in men's clothing and soaked with sweat.

There wouldn't be a better time to mention to the female pirate what Jack had done than when the pirate captain was distracted by the prospect of entertaining the children, even if it wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. 

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Ana-Maria rubbed her face along the sleeve of her shirt, smiling slightly as she watched the miniature mob encircle her captain.  She had already watched a similar procedure with Will, and Brian would no doubt bring this playful attack to the same swift end before too much disruption had occurred.

Disruption.

She should have been there with Jack, been at his side when he finally woke, but after the first day and a half of inactivity she hadn't been able to stand it anymore.  She had still ascertained that he came back to consciousness enough to drink, even if she hadn't managed to wake him up to eat, and she had kept the blankets firmly around him even in the heat of the day, for once more worried about the absence of heat from his skin than by the presence.  Staying by his side, though, staying by the side of a man who betrayed you, by the side of someone who obviously wasn't even aware enough to know if you were present or not . . .

That wasn't fair.  Jack hadn't betrayed her.  He'd done what he thought was right, and the fact that it hurt her in the process . . .well, he hadn't planned on being around to see her hurt, now had he?

No, it was far better for her and Elizabeth to work with the crew, to ingratiate themselves with the sailors and marines as well as their officers.

Dealing with their men could come later.

Only later had just become now.

Will's swift approach saved Ana-Maria from deciding if she had a firm enough grip to deal with whatever Jack would throw at her now.

"Ana-Maria."

"Will."  The uncertainty and veiled concern in the younger man's voice sent a snake of fear crawling through her gut, and she involuntarily took a step closer to the pirate captain.  "What's wrong?"

"Jack . . ."  The blacksmith hesitated again, glancing at the deck, and Ana-Maria felt more than saw Elizabeth drift closer.  "Has Jack . . .did you see any injury to his leg when you were with him?"

The last part of the sentence was said rather desperately, as though Will had meant to say something else and then decided against it.

"Why?  Is he limping again?"

"Again?"  Will leaned back slightly, his eyes widening in shock.

"Aye, again.  Ye didn' notice b'fore, at your house?"

The blacksmith furrowed his brow, sparing a swift glance back at the pirate and the children, still absorbed in each other's company.  "I suppose I did.  I just assumed it was part of jumping off a ship seconds before she explodes.  It wasn't as bad then as it was a minute ago, though.  I could just barely tell he was limping."

"Aye, and that's the way it'll stay.  Ye're not t' tell him ye noticed him limpin'."

The red flush that crept up Will's face spoke volumes.

Ana-Maria sighed.  "Ye already told him."

"Why shouldn't I have?"

"Because he told me he'd rather be damned than limp on that leg in front of ye, Will Turner."  Ana-Maria paused, reminding herself to talk lowly and calmly so as not to draw undo attention.  "Because he thought ye were intelligent enough t' put two and two together and reach a sum of four."

Will frowned again, shaking his head slightly.  "I don't . . ."

Ana-Maria knew the instant he understood, and she instinctively reached a hand out to clasp the blacksmith's arm tightly as his face paled.  Elizabeth did the same, despite the fact that her complexion wasn't all that much more encouraging than her husband's.

"That's what he meant . . .he didn't do a bloody thing . . .I did it for him . . ."

"Do ye want me t' slap ye, Will Turner?"  The female pirate raised her hand menacingly.

"Do you ever give Jack that option?"

Ana-Maria chuckled softly at the attempted humor.  "Jack doesn't blame ye, lad.  He's just always careful about not limpin' in front of the crew and in front of you."

"How long has it been causing him problems?"  Elizabeth moved to stand more fully beside her husband, offering him comfort through her physical presence.

"A little over a year now.  It isn't bad.  It'll hurt if he's been workin' too long for a raid or if he gets cold, but usually he's fine.  Every pirate worth his salt has battle scars, Will.  Occasionally they decide to be a bit more than scars, is all."

"And he's still a pirate."  Will was staring at the pirate captain openly now, a state of being that Ana-Maria quickly rectified.  Attracting Jack's attention was not something she wanted to do at the moment.

"He can't stop.  It's in his blood, in his soul, in his heart.  He is a pirate and he belongs to the sea."

"It's his freedom."  Elizabeth's whispered words and distant eyes told a story in and of themselves as she moved closer to her husband.

Ana-Maria simply nodded, glancing at Elizabeth and sharing a small smile.  "Was there anything more ye wanted t' talk to me about, Will?"

Will shook his head slowly, visibly dragging himself back to the present.  "Aye, there was.  I . . .He . . .Has he . . .has he ever cut himself, that you know of?"

The female pirate stiffened, her entire body straightening and her head snapping up in one convulsive movement that was almost painful to watch.

"What?"  The hiss might have come from a snake rather than a person.

"He cut himself.  Here."  Will pantomimed slicing his own palm open beneath the scar he had as a souvenir of his battle with the Aztec curse.  "It isn't really . . .that . . .bad . . ."

"I don't think she heard you."  Will nodded, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth and tightening his hold on her as the female pirate stalked towards her captain, each step heavy with suppressed emotion.

"I don't think she did, either."

Jack really wasn't going to be thrilled with him after this.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack turned his head towards Ana-Maria just in time to catch the full force of her slap on his cheek.  He was almost surprised he didn't taste copper in his mouth as his ears stopped ringing.

"Well, and a g'mornin' t' ye, too."  Rubbing at his cheek as he watched both children back away out of the corner of his eye helped to alleviate the prickling sensation left from the slap.

"What in Hell did ye think ye were doin', Jack Sparrow?"  Ana-Maria didn't shout.  There was no need to.  The intensity with which she said the words spoke volumes all on its own, and her almost-whisper drove that intensity home far better than any shouting could have.

"That depends on what incident you're referring to, love."

"Give me your hand, Jack."  The pirate acquiesced with a grin, calmly extending his right hand.  "The other one, ye black-hearted fool."

The pirate captain shrugged and extended his other hand, cursing mildly to himself when a line of sanguine fluid showed starkly against his palm.  The bloody cut had to choose the least opportune moment to determine that he wanted it to bleed.

Jack was more prepared for the second slap and allowed his head to roll backward with the motion, the crack of her hand connecting with his face still grabbing the attention of many of the crewmen close by.

"Don't ye play games with me, Jack.  What did ye think ye were doin'?  Haven't ye lost enough blood and haven't we got enough people after it already?  Did ye really have t' take some for yourself?"

The pirate captain met her gaze calmly.  "Ye weren't there."

Ana-Maria raised her hand as though to slap him, studied his face for a moment, and lowered her hand again.  "What?"

"You weren't there.  I was cold.  I couldn't tell if I was really alive.  So I tested it.  It's barely a nick, love.  Nothing to worry about."

"Ye couldn't tell if ye were alive or not?"  Ana-Maria didn't even blink as she stared at her captain, his left hand still trapped at the wrist by her right.

"It's nothing, Ana-Maria.  Forget about it."  Jack coolly pried his hand free, glancing around at those crewmen who were obviously watching him and grinning at each.

"Forget about it?  Forget about the fact that ye bloody well took a blade to your own hand?  Just ignore it?  Maybe I could, Jack, if I didn't know ye bloody well _chose_ to die this time, if I knew why in Hell ye were still up and breathin' instead o' sinkin' int' Davy Jone's locker!"

That seemed to splinter the pirate captain's calm a bit.  "If you don't know that, then—"

Ana-Maria didn't pause to acknowledge that Jack had even spoken.  "Maybe I could trust ye if I hadn't heard ye babblin' 'bout seein' Death and bein' claimed.  Maybe I could trust ye and ignore it—"

"At the moment, that is exactly what you are going to do.  I hate to interrupt this . . .lovely chat of yours."  Both pirates stopped abruptly, never having heard Brian sound quite so sarcastic or derisive.

"By all means, please interrupt, Captain."  Jack recovered quickly, turning his grin to the young captain, who returned it with a small smile.  Francis merely stared at the pirate, who returned the stare in kind, tilting his head as he examined the doctor.

"Dr. Welks would like to look at your head before I am allowed to mention anything even remotely tactical to you.  If you would be so kind as to go with the good doctor . . .?"  Jack eyed the doctor doubtfully, shifting his weight slightly as though prepared to bolt.  "Captain Sparrow, please cooperate in this.  I'm sure you are as comfortable being a guest of the British Navy as my men are to have you as a guest.  The sooner you are pronounced fit for the duty, the sooner Francis will let us discuss your future without constant interruption.  Agreed?"

"Aye.  Agreed."  The pirate captain spoke slowly, continuing to eye the doctor with obviously forced nonchalance as he followed the man back into Brian's cabin.

Ana-Maria turned away, still seething with indignation, terror and worry.

Brian's hand on her shoulder stopped her before she could return to her work.  "Three things, Ana-Maria.  First, I would thank you for not creating an even bigger disruption to the efficient working of my ship than my godson, no matter how justifiable you feel your actions are.  Understood?"

Ana-Maria stared straight ahead, never making eye contact with the young captain.  "Aye, sir."

"Secondly, if he really did cut himself, embarrassing him on the deck of my ship is not the best policy for determining why and if he might do it again, something I highly doubt.  And third, he may have died for Will, but he lived for you.  Remember that."

Ana-Maria cut her dark gaze up to the officer's blue one.  Brian returned her stare for a moment before dropping his hand.  "That will be all.  You may return to your duties."

The young captain turned and walked away, leaving Ana-Maria standing with her fists clenched, determined that she was not, under any circumstances, possibly going to shed even a single tear in front of this crew of Navy men.


	21. Chapter 21: Death's Game

Disclaimer:  I hopefully own a Christmas present that is in the shape of a rather shallow box and contains a pathway to adventure.

AN:  Sorry I didn't get this up, but between Thanksgiving, my cocker spaniel dying, my shepherd/husky mix getting a tumor in his abdomen, my mom giving my cat away, and Jaraen playing change-the-plot, things have been rather hectic.  Ah, well, en na anoire estel!

AN2:  This chapter might be open to serious revision.  Just wanted to show I am still alive.  Maybe.  Possibly.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 21**

"Did you just growl at me?"  Francis pulled back, halting his work to study the pirate's profile.

"Couldn't think of a curse strong enough off the top of my head.  I could always just hit you again."  Sparrow paused as though contemplating the pros and cons of such an action.

"Growl away."  The military doctor attempted to keep from being flustered by his rather unique patient.  After all, he was used to receiving threats, and occasionally even blows, from the people he treated.  If a man wasn't unconscious or fall-down-dead drunk, medical treatment was going to hurt.  Like hell.

Another glob of dried blood pulled free of the pirate's hair.

"This would be much simpler if you'd let me simply shave around the injury."

"If you wanted to do that, you should have done it while I was comatose.  That's the only way you're going to go shavin' half my head."

"I would have, if I didn't enjoy keeping all my teeth in my head.  You weren't that far under, and you had a rather overzealous protector."

"Really now?  That's interesting."

"What's interesting?"  Francis winced in silent sympathy as his probing fingers drew a hiss and a low curse from his patient.

"Nothing.  You wouldn't happen to reconsider giving me that drink now, would you?"

"When I'm done.  Hold still.  I'm almost down to the wound."

The pirate stopped his restless shifting.  "It didn't take Ana-Maria this long."

"You were drunk at the time and probably rather distracted, if your behavior a few days ago is anything to go by."  A noncommittal grunt was the only answer the doctor received.

Francis turned his full attention to the injury that was slowly being revealed beneath the mass of braided, trinket-laden, blood-matted hair.

"Now that _is_ interesting."  Sparrow didn't respond.  Francis frowned slightly as he shifted to have a better view of his patient's face.  The pirate's eyes were closed, though his breathing lacked the relative rhythmicity of sleep.

"Captain Sparrow?"  The doctor moved his left hand to the pirate captain's shoulder and shook him slightly, concerned by the lack of response.  "Captain Sparrow."

"Wha'?"

Francis sighed in relief as Sparrow opened his eyes, a relief that was short-lived as he felt small tremors race beneath his hand.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."  The finality with which the words were spoken showed in no uncertain terms that no dissension from that opinion would be tolerated.

"Really?  So I shouldn't worry at all about a lack of response and shivering in a man who was hypothermic not that long ago?"

"That would be nice."

Francis smiled slightly as he shifted his attention back to the injury, grabbing his scissors with his right hand.  "It isn't going to happen."

"Yes, it is.  You can't do anything about it, so I would suggest you consign your concern to the injury I sustained to my head, an injury which you actually _can_ be helpful with."

The doctor allowed himself the luxury of a quiet laugh as he shook his head.  "Not bad.  You would have done Brian proud.  Unfortunately for you, I honestly _have_ been ordered about and scolded by British officers who consider themselves above such petty things as physical damage and would thus work themselves near to the point of death, the young captain of this ship included.  I know how to keep an officer down and grounded, and I'm assuming it won't be too much more difficult with a self-appointed one, especially one who's current situation is not exactly conducive to the issuing of orders."

"Simple pirate, mate.  Keep the words small and the sentences smaller."

"I hardly think a 'simple pirate' uses words such as 'consign', 'comatose', and 'sustain', nor do I believe a simple pirate would attempt to imitate the demeanor of an officer of the Royal Navy . . .nor do I believe that a simple pirate would trade his life for another man's.  There."  Jack yelped instead of responding as a quick tug ripped the last stitch free from his scalp.  "That should have come out two days ago, Captain.  You're lucky fever didn't set in."

"Fever doesn't seem to be a problem lately."

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

"I suppose this is where you tell me to think of something pleasant as you re-stitch it, aye?"

"Actually, no.  It's healed.  Almost completely."

"Really?  Well, then, let's dispense with this lovely procedure and I shall go and determine from your captain what his plans are while you go and do . . .whatever it is you usually do.  Savvy?"

"Not quite.  It shouldn't have healed this quickly and I don't like the shivering."

"You can not like it to Hell and back without there being anything you can do about it."  The pirate sighed, rubbing one hand along the right side of his head and visibly forcing himself to relax.  "Besides, since when is something healing quickly a bad thing?"

"It isn't.  It's playing with forces you don't understand and don't have control over that can be a bad thing.  How did you do it?"  The doctor gently rubbed a damp cloth along the healing gash, pulling away dried blood and revealing new, tender skin.

"Do what?  Die?  It's quite easy, really.  I seem to have a penchant for it.  Now if you're not going to put stitches or anything like that in, I would be eternally grateful if you would just leave me in peace."

"No."

"Yes.  I am definitely not above knocking you to the floor to gain my freedom, mate.  The first time was an accident.  This time it won't be, and I can guarantee you won't be getting up quite so fast."

"That was a backhanded apology if I ever heard one."

The pirate froze, his head tilted to the right side in an attempt to gently evade the doctor's hands.  "Who mentioned an apology?"

Francis wiped the few bits of blood off his hands as he considered his patient.  "A bargain, then.  If you can't stand my presence or my ministrations, and I can't in good conscience declare you completely sound—"

"Who said anything about having to be completely—"

"If you will agree to rest for the remainder of the day, preferably someplace warm and with something warm to drink, then I shall inform Brian that tomorrow morning shall be an ideal time for your long-awaited tactical discussion.  Agreed?"

"No, not agreed.  I am _not _staying in here all day."

Francis pulled back even more to study his patient, shock clouding his features.  There was something very wrong with how the pirate had spoken the phrase.  There hadn't been any vicious denial, any false belief of indispensability.  No, it had been something closer to fear that showed on the pirate's face and turned the familiar phrase to something . . .darker.

"Why?  What are you afraid of?"

The easy grin that Sparrow had sported on deck returned, and the doctor knew he had lost any chance of getting a straight answer from the man.

"Nothing.  Captain Jack Sparrow isn't afraid of anything.  I've seen it all and done it all."

"Then there's absolutely no reason you can't stay in Brian's cabin and rest, now is there?  Especially if there's a bottle of spirits and a promise that I'll have the Captain find your woman and send her in, aye?"

The pirate hesitated for a moment before nodding.  "Aye.  You strike a hard bargain.  Tell the lad I'm looking forward to our discussion tomorrow morning."

"I'll do that, Captain Sparrow.  Now, if you'll allow me to excuse myself . . ."

"You couldn't get out of here fast enough, mate."  Sparrow lay down on the bed and stretched out, placing both hands behind his head and calmly closing his eyes, the same easy grin on his face.  "Couldn't get out of here fast enough."

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"Walk with me, doctor."

Francis easily fell into step beside his captain, studying the deck as it passed swiftly beneath his feet before cutting his eyes up to the neat row of stitches on the younger man's cheek, stitches that would need to come out relatively soon.  The doctor sighed softly.  Hopefully the slash had healed correctly and completely.  It was hard enough holding one captain down.  Two was one too many for any man.

"How is he?"

"Honestly?"  Francis couldn't help but smile as Brian simply raised an eyebrow in silent query, his mouth twitching up into a small grin.  "Honestly, I have no bloody idea in Hell how he's doing.  Physically, he's fit.  There's a bit of a limp on his left leg when he isn't being careful, but from what I've seen it's an old injury.  His head is nearly healed, something that should be nigh on impossible in this short a time frame.  His hand is barely a scratch, nothing to worry about at all."

"So what are you worried about?"

"He . . .I'm not sure how to describe it.  One minute he's entirely there, quite adept at a game of verbal sparring, and the next he's . . .somewhere else.  He was shivering again, too.  Whatever he set himself up for with his . . .his . . ."

"Bargain with death?  It isn't that hard to say, Francis."

"Maybe not for you, Captain, but I'm used to people being alive, dying, and staying dead."

Brian paused in his pacing of the deck to stare out at the sea, sparkling under the brilliant Caribbean sun.  His right hand slowly rose to caress the scar on his cheek.  "If there's one thing I've learned from Jack over the years, it's to expect the unexpected."

"Aye, sir.  If you say so."

The young captain dropped his hand and resumed his pacing of the deck, a melancholy smile playing briefly across his face.  "You don't believe me."

Francis shrugged, again dropping his eyes to the deck.  "I don't know what to believe, sir."

"Jack has a tendency of taking preconceived notions and turning them upside down, in everyone from a blacksmith to a lowly enlisted marine to a Commodore of the Royal Navy."  Brian paused for a moment.  "So there's nothing you can do for him?"

"I'm sorry, Captain.  All I could do was bargain with him to rest.  I told him you'd send some spirits and his woman in as soon as possible."

"I'd hardly call throwing him and Ana-Maria into a bed together resting, doctor."

"Into _your_ bed, Captain."

A grimace of distaste was quickly concealed behind military rigidity.  "I was rather trying to avoid thinking about that, Francis."  The young captain sighed as he quickly picked out the female pirate among the workers.  "Though I think the likelihood that she'll beat him senseless first is rather great at the moment."

Francis glanced towards the woman, turned back to his captain, paused, and looked again at the knot of sailors around her.  "Is that Turner?  What does he think _he's_ doing, helping to crew this ship?  Damn it, he was _virtually_ dead not that long ago!"

"Aye, he was, but he isn't now, and wasting time arguing with him about what he can and cannot do is not an intelligent thing to do at the moment, doctor.  They're all men, or women, of action.  I would much rather have him sweating off his frustration and his confusion up here than below or in the cabin raising Cain."

The doctor considered a moment before nodding.  "When are you going to send Ana-Maria in to see her captain?"

Brian grimaced again as he turned away, picking a swift path back to the helm.  "I was figuring when she wasn't attempting to strangle the rope while muttering something suspiciously like 'bloody daft fool of a pirate'."

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"I'm telling you, he doesn't know where they've gone!"  The mercenary slammed the cell door shut, barely missing the redcoat that he had enlisted to help drag the semi-conscious blacksmith to the jail.

"He _has _to know where they are."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, commodore, but he _doesn't_!"

"How can you be certain?"

"Are you suggesting I don't know how to do my job?  Look at him, for God's sake!"  Michael gritted his teeth together as Hallson did just that, stepping closer to the bars and examining the man lying motionless on the ground as though he hadn't seen him moments before.  "If I give him any more drugs, he'll die.  If I cut him again, he'll die.  There's a great likelihood he'll die anyway.  If he lives, I sincerely question what amount of sanity the man is going to maintain.  You just about heard the man's entire life story, even if it was a bit disjointed and incoherent.  He doesn't know where your bloody Captain has hidden himself."

Hallson turned away from the cell, grimacing in distaste.  "He has to know."

"He _doesn't_!"  The mercenary was getting rather tired of repeating the same thing over and over again.

"He should.  Maybe you just need to try again later."

Michael sighed, deciding it was useless to argue with the officer.  "If you say so, sir."

"Crallon, you're to guard the cell.  Ensure that no one see him but myself and Michael."

"Aye, sir."  The redcoat dropped into an attention posture as Hallson nodded to him.

"Sir, are you sure that's wise?"  Michael eyed the marine suspiciously.  He had learned his lesson when it came to trusting Royal Navy people at Johnson.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Michael?"

Hell, yes.  "Not at all, sir."

"A very wise decision.  I shall see you in the morning, then."  Hallson strode quickly from the brig.  Michael followed him a bit more hesitantly, glancing back over his shoulder at the redcoat several times.

Crallon waited for perhaps sixty seconds after hearing the door close before moving, unlocking the cell door with shaky hands and kneeling by the semi-conscious man inside, lowering his rifle aside before reaching out hesitantly to touch the other man's shoulder.

"Robert?  Robert, can you hear me?"

The blacksmith began whispering something under his breath, his voice too soft to hear properly.

"Robert, it's Adam.  Come on, friend, don't do this to me."  The redcoat attempted to shift the blacksmith into a seated position so he could see the extent of the damage, stopping abruptly as Robert stiffened and twisted, snarling low in his throat.

"I'm not going to hurt you, friend.  Come on, pull it back together.  You're stronger than this.  Don't let him break you."

Robert slowly calmed, allowing the marine to shift his body with only a suppressed whimper of pain to show he was even aware of what was happening.

Crallon cursed quietly as he studied the man in front of him.  Blood stains dotted his clothing and heat was already beginning to pour from his skin as fever took hold.  What truly frightened him was the lack of comprehension on the blacksmith's face and the primal responses he had demonstrated.

"I'm sorry, Robert.  We tried to get to you before they did, really we did.  It's just so hard now, with the upset about the Captain running off with the prisoners and all.  Otherwise we'd have already ended this charade a long time ago."

No response was drawn.  Adam sighed.  "Just stay seated like this, Robert, and I'll see what I can do about getting you fixed up, all right?  I have to leave the room for a moment to do that, though, so I'll need to relock the cell.  Don't worry, though.  I'll be back."

Even that didn't draw an answer, and as Crallon started out on his mission of mercy, it was hatred and loathing that he felt most keenly.

One way or another, Hallson was going to pay for what he had done, to the Captain, to Robert, to the child, hell, even to the pirate woman.  He was definitely going to pay.

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"Will, are you all right?"  Elizabeth moved to her husband's side quickly.

"I'm all right, Elizabeth.  Just a bit winded."  That part was true enough, at least.  He was tired from all the physical labor and ready to call it a night.  Just because he failed to mention to his wife, whom he wasn't entirely sure would be calling it a night with him, that a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach was telling him in no uncertain terms that something was _wrong_, well, that was his decision to make, no one else's.

"You should stop, then.  Brian will skin you alive if you hurt yourself trying to crew a ship you aren't even supposed to be on."

"Come with me, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth straightened, dropping her eyes from Will's.  "I don't think you know what you're asking, Will."

"I do.  I want the wife that I love to come with me."

"Will . . .I was the one who asked Jack to hold on to you."

The blacksmith frowned reprovingly, but Elizabeth cut him off before he could voice any comments.

"And then I asked him to let go."  Elizabeth turned away again.

"Is that all that's bothering you?  Don't worry about it, love."

Elizabeth straightened, gazing suspiciously at her husband.  "What did you just call me?"

"What?"  Will blinked, genuinely completely confused.

"You just called me 'love'.  Will, you never do that.  That's Jack's line."

"I suppose it's just a reaction to having him so close for so long."  The blacksmith shrugged, hoping to display a nonchalance he didn't feel.  "Elizabeth, I asked Jack to let me go.  I thanked him and practically begged him to let me go.  It wasn't you or me, though, who got to make a choice.  It was Jack's, through and through, and he made it.  I don't think he made it just for me, either.  I think he wanted to prove something to himself."

"I don't suppose he'll ever tell the story, not in it's entirety.  Hell would have to be a frozen wasteland before Jack would willingly tell one of his real stories."

Will smiled, the action somewhat dampened by the growing sense of unease at the back of his mind.  "Come with me, Elizabeth.  Please."

Elizabeth hesitated a moment longer before answering.

"All right, Will."

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"Ana-Maria."

The female pirate paused, deciding quickly that it was impossible to pretend she hadn't heard the summons.  "Captain Lanebridges."

"Come here."  Ana-Maria slowly acquiesced to the command, taking a few moments to enjoy the faint glow on the horizon as darkness stole over the _Intrepid_, not quite an honored guest but too bold to be a thief.  "Feeling better?"

"Aye."  It was true, too.  A full day's worth of work had given her a chance to fight her demons with a ready outlet for her excess energy.  Now that she had stopped, a bone-deep weariness was swiftly replacing the numbness that routine had given her.

"Jack could use a bit of company.  Francis promised him a drink and a certain female pirate's company if he'd rest all day.  So far he's managed to make due with simply the brandy."

Ana-Maria bristled slightly at the implication that she was could be bartered about.  "I don't need to be ordered to my captain's side."

"I wasn't suggesting you did.  Have a pleasant evening, whatever you decide to do."

Ana-Maria watched in somewhat shocked surprise as the young captain simply turned and walked away, leaving her to decide what to do, to decide to return to Jack's side or not.

It wasn't much of a choice, really.

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

_Maybe I could trust ye if I hadn't heard ye babblin' 'bout seein' Death and bein' claimed . . .Maybe I could trust ye . . ._

"It doesn't matter, damn ye!"  The harsh whisper caught in his throat as he wheeled around, attempting to pace the cramped cabin in an effort to silence the voice and drive back the cold that was creeping through his body.

_No?  It doesn't matter that she doesn't trust you, that she doesn't believe you?  That's strange, considering I believe she was half of the loophole you used to crawl away from me.  She doesn't want you, Sparrow.  That makes you mine._

"No way in Hell."

_Hell can be arranged for you, if you like._

"Just leave me alone."

_Never, Jack.  It isn't in my nature to lose, but They keep interfering when it comes to you.  It's rather amusing to be able to interfere back._

"Speak for yourself."

_I am._

"I won."

_You cheated.  Escape based on the flimsy oath of a pirate and the devotion of his wench?_

"I could feel her.  She was crying.  Over me.  For me."

_It wouldn't have lasted long.  You shouldn't have felt it.  You should have been numb.  They interfered for the last time, though.  This time I win._

"No." 

_I'll always win, Jack, just because of what you are.  Human.  Mortal.  Weak.  From the moment you came screaming and kicking into the world, you've been making your way inexorably towards me.  We've met so many times before, my dear Captain.  Remember?_

The pirate captain bit down on his own cheek so hard he tasted blood, choking down the scream that instinctively rose as pain exploded throughout his body, threatening to send him crashing to the floor.

He remembered.  He remembered every single time.

"I _won_."

_You lose, Jack.  You belong to me, now and forever._

"No."

"Jack?  No what?"  The pirate captain spun around again, suppressing the tremors that were racing along his body as he grinned sloppily at the woman standing in the cabin doorway.

"Ana-Maria.  I was beginning to think you weren't going to come, love."

"Of course I came, ye daft pirate.  I couldn't not come."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, Jack.  I'd die for you."  She smiled slightly as she stepped into the cabin and shut the door.  "When I don't want to slap ye, that is."

"Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

The grin faltered slightly as Jack swayed in place.  "I'd die for you, too."

"I know, and I know you lived for me, it's just . . ."  Ana-Maria stepped closer to her captain, tracing one hand along his cheek slowly before freezing, her eyes narrowing dangerously.  "Jack, what's wrong with ye?"

"If you don't want me here . . .if I don't belong here . . ._it_ still wants me."  More violent shudders were tracing their way through his body now, tremors that he couldn't hide.

The female pirate was still and silent for a moment before she reacted, pulling Jack over to the bed and forcing him to sit, gathering a blanket around them both and settling his body as close against hers as she could.

"I want ye here, Jack.  I need ye here.  Understand?"

"Aye.  And ye trust me?"

"As much as I can.  I didn't mean what I said earlier, love.  You scared me half to death with what you did for Will.  I don't want to lose you . . .especially not like that."

"I wasn't really aware of what I was doing."

"Don't even try that, Jack.  You don't bargain with death without knowing what you're bargaining with."

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and I really wasn't entirely coherent, Ana-Maria.  I was exhausted and hurting and . . ."

"If you could do it again, would you make the same choice?"

"It doesn't matter.  Choice made, come and gone."

"Really?  Why're you cold, Jack?"

"Because I let it in and the darkness doesn't take no for an answer."  The pirate captain attempted to shrug.  "It doesn't make accords like Will does."

"What about Will?  Can he help you?"

"How?  The link?  I thought ye hated it, love."

"I did.  I do.  I hate seeing you like this more."

"The link broke when I died."

"Shouldn't it have come back with you?  He could help, Jack.  There's been no blood contact and there's been no promises.  How did you start it before?"

"I was half-dead and delirious and I asked for his help."

"Do it again.  Jack, it can't hurt to try."

"He's afraid of me now, love.  I saw it in his eyes, earlier.  I don't want someone walking through my head who's afraid of what he sees."

"He isn't afraid of ye.  Maybe afraid _for_ ye, but not _of _ye.  He loves ye like a brother.  It took the two of ye t' get int' this mess, so maybe it just takes the two of ye t' get out.  Ask for help, Jack.  Please."

"You're certain?"

"Aye, I'm certain."

"Ye trust me."

"Aye."

"All right."  Jack's body slowly relaxed and he sighed, his next words barely a whisper.

"Help me, Will."


	22. Chapter 22: Marked

Disclaimer:  I own them in the same world where I own Estel.

AN:  This chapter is probably going to be slightly confusing, but don't worry.  It's just I have the flu, so I don't know when I'll get the rest of this part done, and it is update time again, so . . .*shrug* . . .If you get too lost just tell me in a review and I'll revise and repost.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 22**

_For an instant there was the feeling of being in freefall, though it wasn't so much falling _down_ to something as being forcibly ripped _towards_ something._

_Will opened his eyes slowly, staring around in open awe.  He supposed he should be frightened, disconcerted at the least, but he wasn't.  In fact, what he felt was nearly the opposite._

_A grayish mist swirled everywhere he looked, equally dense from the ground, if ground could be deemed the proper way to term what he was standing on, to the sky, if sky could be said to describe a shifting, amorphous gray sheath of mist an indeterminate distance above his head._

_Stepping forward didn't change the view or the dimensions of the landscape at all, though the sensation caused by walking was exotic enough to merit a few extra steps.  The ground was neither springy nor hard, but a unique, indescribably combination of the two, rather like he supposed walking on mist would feel like._

_A flash at the very edge of his vision caused him to turn.  It took several moments worth of concentration and observation to determine what it had been.  Multicolored sparks traced eccentric lines through the mist, wheeling in circles and spirals before shooting off too fast for his eye to follow._

_One of the sparks moved closer, swept forward on a tendril of mist that moved in on an intangible wind.  Will reached out with his right hand to grab at the dancing point of light, stopping partway through the motion to stare down at his own hands._

_Light danced across his skin, alternating between a pure bright white and a pale red with the steady pulsing of his heart.  The light wasn't stagnant, though, but shifted and flowed, cascading across the backs of his hands and onto his palms, throwing the scar on his left hand into sharp relief simply by avoiding it._

_"That's interesting."  The phrase might have been Jack's, but it definitely seemed to fit the situation perfectly._

_"Really?  Because I was finding it rather boring, m'self."_

_"Jack."  Will spun around to greet the pirate, standing perhaps three feet behind him, dressed as he had been when they commandeered the _Interceptor_ thirteen years ago, his left hand holding his coat closed as his right plucked at the air, randomly chasing after the various points of light._

_"Except for these little buggers.  They're int'resting.  Harder to catch than fireflies."  Jack suddenly stopped mid-motion, staring hard at Will.  "You're glowin' like a bloody beacon."_

_"You're not exactly a shadow yourself."  Will smiled as the pirate frowned, staring hard at his right hand, turning it this way and that as though attempting to determine where the light was coming from before sighing and shaking his head._

_Will turned his attention back to the surreal landscape, the wandering mists and the dancing lights that granted a haunting beauty to the land.  "Is this real?"_

_Jack tilted his head slightly in consideration before shrugging.  "I think that would be determined by what we're defining real as."_

_"This isn't a place, it can't be.  But it isn't a dream, either.  Where are we?"_

_"Somewhere.  Definitely not my head.  I would come up with a better view than this.  Maybe yours."_

_"I don't think so, Jack.  All right, if we can't determine _where_ we are, _why_ are we wherever we are?"_

_"That would be my fault.  Or Ana-Maria's, depending on how you look at it."  The pirate turned away, staring off into the mist._

_"Jack?  What do you mean?"_

_"What do you make of all this?"_

_"I don't know.  Do you have an idea?"_

_"Parley.  Mental parley.  I think the light . . .I think the light is your strength, your energy . . .your life."_

_Jack turned back around, allowing his left hand to fall to his side and his coat to hang open for the first time.  Where the same light that shone from Will's hands also shone from his chest, causing his loose white shirt to glow, threads of darkness were snaking across Jack's, coalescing for a moment before being driven back into individual strands by the pulsing light.  Jack grinned slightly._

_ "Minor problem."_

_"Not minor, Jack.  Not minor."  Will's voice fell to a whisper.  Just as an absence of fear had seemed right before, the dread that was rising at the sight of those thin lines of darkness snaking across the pirate's chest seemed proper.  Will stepped forward instinctively, his hand rising, the pulsing light from his skin shifting faster as the distance between pirate and blacksmith closed._

_Jack stepped back before any contact could be made, pulling his jacket closed again with his left hand.  "What're you doing, lad?"_

_"What we're here to do.  You called again, didn't you?  _That's_ why we're here.  You asked for my help.  Let me give it."_

_"You don't even know what you're offering."_

_"Jack, I won't die, if that's what you're afraid of.  Just lend a bit of strength."_

_The pirate shook his head, circling warily around Will as though they were dueling, though neither carried any weapons.  Will fought the urge to simply lunge at the older man, the dread growing and spreading with each passing moment until it approached panic._

_"The link'll be back.  You'll be able t' see int' my head again.  Can you handle that?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Really?"  Jack stopped his slow circling, moving closer to Will again, staying just outside arm's length.  "You were afraid of what you saw before.  When I was locked in that flamin' bloody cell, you were afraid of what you saw.  When you saw me earlier today, you were afraid of what you saw.  I don't exactly savor the prospect of having someone who's afraid of me traipsing through my head."_

_"I'm not afraid of you.  I saw more of the real you than I think any other man, living or dead, has gotten to, and yes, it frightened me.  I wasn't afraid of you, though.  I trust you, Jack, with my life, my family, my soul.  I was worried about what was happening to you, and maybe to myself.  Can you honestly say that you've seen nothing in me that doesn't surprise you?"_

_Jack was still and silent for what seemed an interminable amount of time before he shrugged.  "No.  There're parts of you that manage to surprise me, Will Turner."_

_"If I was afraid of you, I would never let you near the children.  If I doubted your sincerity, I would never leave you alone with Elizabeth."  Both men grinned.  "I trust you, Jack.  Now trust me.  Let me help you."  Will stepped forward again, reaching now for Jack's right hand, taking the silence and lack of movement as an acceptance._

_He nearly screamed in frustration as the pirate suddenly turned and moved away again, his head cocked to one side._

_"Did you hear that?"_

_"Hear what?"_

_Jack motioned for silence, and this time both could hear the faint cries._

_"That sounds like a child.  That isn't possible, is it?  Jack?"  Will turned, shocked to find that the pirate captain had paled significantly._

_"It shouldn't be possible.  Not bloody possible at all.  Thomas!"  The summons seemed to echo faintly on the mist, bouncing this way and that before fading away to nothingness.  The answering cry caught the blacksmith completely by surprise._

_"You.  He's calling you."_

_"Who else would he call?  I'm the one who owes him."  Bitterness filled Jack's voice as he stepped forward again, Will trailing behind._

_"Owe him what?"  The pirate didn't even acknowledge that Will had spoken._

_"Jack . . .Jack, is that you?"  The boy simply appeared from the mist.  He was a shade younger than Will's own son, soaking wet and shivering.  Water dripped from his clothes, from his red-blonde hair, mingling with tears on his face as the lad sniffled and scuffed his feet, stirring the mist even more._

_Will hated him on sight._

_"Thomas.  This isn't right.  You can't be here."  Jack seemed to be speaking to himself more than to the child or to Will._

_"You let me go, Jack.  Why'd you let me go?  You said we were going to start a new life, a better life.  You told San you were goin' t' watch out for us."_

_"I tried.  I held on for as long as I could."_

_"You said we were going to make it, together, that nothing, nothing could stop Jack Sparrow, but you let me go."_

_"I had to.  If I didn't we were both goin' t' go under.  I didn't have a choice."_

_Will had heard more than enough to convince himself that leaving the child, if that was what it was, would be no crime.  "Jack, I think we should—"_

_"Don't!  Jack, don't leave me here alone again!  Please!  It's cold and dark and frightening and . . .and _it_ keeps trying to find me."  The boy launched himself at the pirate captain, grabbing him in a tight hug.  Jack hesitated a moment before picking the child up.  The boy promptly wrapped his arms around the pirate's neck and nestled against his chest._

_Will stepped forward again.  Something about what was happening was wrong, very, very wrong.  "Jack, I don't like this."_

_Jack didn't answer, swaying slightly in place, his eyes closed and his hands shaking slightly where they gripped the child._

_The boy turned his head around slowly, his eyes only opened to slits and a vindictive smirk marring the innocence of his face.  When he spoke, his voice was deeper than could be physically possible, a resonating bass that Will could feel in his gut even though the words were spoken in a lilting whisper.  "You shouldn't have come here.  It was a mistake to come somewhere where I could take form."_

_Will didn't wait a moment more before launching himself at the child, or whatever it was, forcibly tearing it from the pirate's wavering grip.  Jack stumbled backwards before tripping and falling to the ground where he simply lay, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  Will quickly dropped the struggling child, a hiss of pain and surprise escaping as he looked at his hands.  They were _burning _where he had touched the child, a cold burn that matched the swarm of black strands.  It took only a moment before the light from his skin caused them to shrivel and die, but it was a moment that he didn't wish to repeat._

_"He belongs to me."  The same deep bass cut through Will's thoughts and he turned his attention back to the child, only to find himself face-to-face with Marcus, the leader of the Brotherhood.  "Do you know your place, Will Turner?"  The words were said mockingly._

_"It's right here, between you and Jack."  The answer was just as honest when facing Death as it had been when facing a Commodore of the Royal Navy._

_If Jack would get up off the ground, though, it would be helpful.  At least then they could run._

_"That places you at risk, you know.  What would Elizabeth, sweet Elizabeth, have to say about this?"_

_Before Will could answer another voice broke the stillness of the mist as a hand reached out from behind the creature, spinning it around.  "She won't have to say anything.  You've no right to be here, no right to interfere.  This was not created for you."_

_"He belongs to _me_."_

_"Not by a long shot.  You've no power to frighten or command me, demon.  I already passed your gates and won.  Now leave my son and my friend in peace."_

_"Never."  Will watched in morbid fascination as Death turned back towards him, flesh rippling and changing until Barbossa stood in Marcus' place.  "Jack, Jack, we both know that I'm tellin' the truth, don't we?  Ye belong to me.  Ye gave yerself freely.  Ye carry my mark.  Ye ga—"  Death stopped talking abruptly as the point of a sword sprouted from his chest.  He stood a moment more, staring at the blade in shock, before collapsing slowly forward._

_"I told you, demon, you've no right to interfere here.  It was not created for you, it does not follow your rules.  As for Jack carrying your mark . . ."  A sheath of mist obscured Will's view for a moment.  When it cleared the body was gone, leaving only their rescuer, if that was truly what he was.  "We're working on fixing that."_

_The man stepped forward, stopping a foot in front of Will and appraising him slowly, giving Will a chance to do the same back.  He appeared to be just about Will's age, his features slightly more angular but still disquietingly familiar.  There was just enough of a difference to explain why Jack and Barbossa had both been unable to identify Will immediately while still thinking he looked familiar._

_It was Jack who broke the silence, slowly moving to a kneeling position and staring dazedly at the other two men.  Will noticed with alarm that the black threads that had played across his chest before now skittered throughout the light on his skin, crossing his chest, his arms, his hands, even his neck._

_"Bill?"_


	23. Chapter 23: Free

Disclaimer:  I own them.  Really, I do.  I'll rip the throats out of any evil copyright lawyers who come and tell me otherwise.  *growl*  *howl*

AN:  Hello again!  Welcome to the next installment.  Not much to say other than enjoy.  Except for that, if you don't mind short things, I've got a folder for drabbles and the like up on here that has some things I'm proud of.  It gets updated at weird times, too, basically when Jaraen won't buckle down on this story.  If you feel like, take a gander and review.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 23**

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 23**

_"Bill.  This . . .is this real this time?  No games . . .no tricks . . ."  Jack slowly stood as he spoke, still breathing hard and fast.  When he was finally up he merely stood, feet braced and shoulders slumped, as though the thinnest breeze could send him back down._

_Not that there seemed to be a breeze, not a real one.  The mist still swirled in ever-changing patterns around them, the bright points of light flickering throughout it, but Will had yet to feel so much as a breath of air touch his own body._

_"It's really me, Jack.  No more games.  Just try to stay calm."_

_"Calm?  You want us to bloody well stay calm?  How about some answers then, aye, William?  Or would you rather throw accusations?"  Jack started backing away slowly, and Will followed his movement, careful to keep himself between Jack and what seemed likely to be another threat._

_Bill matched their slow steps, his hands out to the side and empty.  "I swear I'm only here to help you.  If you both weren't so bloody damn stubborn I wouldn't have needed to come at all . . .hell, if you weren't both so bloody damn stubborn this wouldn't exist at all."_

_"If you're trying to reassure me, Bill, ye're doing a ruddy bad job of it."_

_"I'm just trying to keep you alive, pirate."_

_"Why?  You're not even alive yourself."  Will knew the words were true as soon as he spoke them, though the tone was harsher than he had intended.  No light radiated from his father's skin as it did from his and Jack's . . .though the man's buccaneer clothing rustled and shifted faintly in the winds that gently caressed the mist._

_His father's . . .his bloody _father's_ . . ._

_Maybe his father.  He had to remember that, that things weren't always what they seemed to be here._

_Bill sighed and stopped his slow forward movement, and Will stopped as well.  Try as he might to convince himself that there wasn't any way this could be his father, there was still some part of him that believed it was.  "No, Will, I'm not alive.  I haven't been alive for roughly thirteen years now, twenty-three if like me you count the first ten crushed and getting nibbled by fishes as a sample of hell."  Bill sighed again and made a circular gesture somewhat like one of Jack's as Will and Jack both frowned, backing away a bit more.  "The only taste of hell I ever had to endure.  I was very grateful when I felt that water for the first time, even more grateful when they let me see that you were both still alive, even if you—"  He pointed at Jack.  "—had done something incredibly stupid and endangered your life again."_

_"It isn't like I've got a habit of endangering my life.  Besides, I would have thought you'd count your son and his bonny lass as good reason for it.  I remember how much you'd talk 'bout . . .him . . ."  Jack staggered and nearly fell, his left hand rising to rub at his temple as he frowned, and for a brief moment Will could see the outline of the scar from the Aztec curse, blurred by the masses of thin black strings writhing in the area, apparently attracted by the lack of light._

_The blacksmith reacted quickly, reaching behind him to lend a helping hand._

_"No!"  The shout caught him by surprise._

_The feel of a lead weight landing in the middle of his back was even more surprising, as was the close-up view of the gray mist that comprised the ground in this strange world._

_It took a moment for what had happened to process.  When it had, the reaction was instinctive and vicious, an all-out assault on whatever it was that was holding him down.  He could remember the pain that touching the child had caused, the cold burn as the threads of darkness attempted to infiltrate the light on his skin.  He fully expected the same pain to start again at any moment._

_The weight on top of him shifted and Will bucked, twisting around to get a better shot at Bill's, or whatever it truly was, face.  He stopped abruptly as the point of a dagger appeared at his throat.  This world might not be exactly what he was used to, but it seemed a safe gamble that having your throat slit would be a bad thing here, as well._

_"Cheat.  Attack from behind and pull a blade on an unarmed man."_

_"Pirate, whelp."_

_"Your whelp, if I believe you."_

_"Aye.  Lad, I swear I'm not going to hurt you or him.  You're my child; he's somewhere between a brother and a son.  I'm trying to help you."_

_"Really?  Funny way of showing it, William."  The sound of a pistol being cocked caused both Turner men to freeze in disbelief._

_"Jack, how in Hell—"_

_"You weren't armed—"_

_The two men glared at one another before turning back to the pirate captain, who grinned half-heartedly.  If he had looked unsteady before, now it looked as though only sheer stubborn will was keeping his hand steady and his feet firm.   "First off, let's try not to mention hell or being damned or some such fun as that, not while we're here.  Secondly, Will, I have no idea where the bloody pistol came from, I just needed it and it's here, which I think we should be grateful for.  Thirdly, Bill, if that's who you really are, get off your flaming fool of a son and explain what you were trying to do, unless you want to try dying again."_

_"All right, Jack.  Just let the pistol go, all right?  You don't have enough strength to spare to—"_

_"Move, William."  Jack's voice was soft but dangerous, carrying not just the ring of command but of life and death.  If Will could have moved, he would have._

_Bill shifted and tossed the dagger to the side, still using his weight to pin Will down.  "I'm not armed, Jack.  Now please let the pistol go."_

_"No.  You weren't armed before, either.  Made quite a show of it.  Move."  The pistol was shaking slightly in the pirate's grip._

_"Let me explain first.  Please."_

_"Just . . .move, ye . . .bloody . . .bastard . . ."  Jack swayed slightly.  The black threads seemed to have vanished from his skin, but the light also seemed . . .dimmer than it had been._

_"You've got to be feeling them, Jack.  Cold, burrowing, slithering . . .if you're not strong enough to keep them from condensing, then you're—"_

_Will's heart nearly stopped as the light from the pirate's skin flickered and died for an instant.  Jack's eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed to his knees, the pistol falling from his hand, seeming to become transparent before disappearing entirely.  The light brightened slightly around the pirate._

_Before Will could react the weight was gone from his back and Bill knelt in front of the pirate captain, pulling back the pirate's coat and shirt and settling his hand where Will knew Jack sported two scars from shots he had caught with his chest.  Black threads swarmed out and through the light as Jack slowly opened his eyes, allowing Bill to pull him upright as Will scrambled to his own feet, fully intent on separating the two men as quickly as possible._

_"Don't, Will.  Look at yourself.  No threads, no pain where I touched you, now is there?  No.  I am honestly just trying to help you."_

_Will paused, considering.  It was true.  The contact he had had with his father hadn't caused any black threads to appear on his skin, hadn't caused any cold fire._

_"Why . . .what . . ."  There were too many questions to determine which one to ask first._

_"What just happened, William?"_

_"You just tried to kill yourself, that's what just happened.  Black threads are not good.  Black conglomerations are infinitely worse.  You pushed too hard, too fast, and you weren't strong enough to keep the threads from coalescing.  Will, don't come closer, please?"_

_Will stopped, staring inquiringly at Jack, allowing him to pick the next move.  Jack simply nodded, his attention seemingly fully focused on Bill._

_"And you . . . what?"_

_"I did the only thing I can do, even here.  I separated them.  I can't make them go away.  Erasing Death's mark, that's something only another living person can do."_

_"Where is here?"  Will gestured to the gray landscape._

_"That's . . .a very good question."  Bill laughed softly, rubbing at the back of his neck.  _

_The silence stretched.  After thirty seconds, Jack waved his hand vaguely in the air, his voice heavy with sarcasm.  "Do we have to wait an eternity for a very good answer?  You're right, the little thread things are cold, and annoying, and just disturbing to think about, and the sooner you tell us whatever you need to the sooner I get rid of them, right?"_

_"I wasn't supposed to _need_ to be here at all!  If you weren't such a damned stubborn foolhardy chary bloody fool of a pirate this would have been over!"_

_"I think you contradicted yourself in there, and how is this flamin' mess _my_ fault?!"_

_"Because you're the one who played around with forces he doesn't understand!  You're the one who keeps attracting Their bloody attention!"_

_"Whose attention?"_

_"Coyolxauhqui, Quetzalcoatl, Mictlantecuhtle, Shiva, Kali, Yahweh, do I really have to continue?"_

_"No, but between the two of you, the Turner's have gotten just as much attention from those gods as I have."_

_"I can think of others that have been strictly you, Jack.  Besides, no one is able to grab as much attention as Captain Jack Sparrow."_

_"I'll take that as a compliment."_

_"Maybe you should get back to explaining . . ."  Will's voice trailed off as both Jack and Bill turned their glares towards him before facing each other again._

_"At least I'm still alive."_

_"Through no fault of your own."  Bill sighed.  "Here isn't a real place, you both figured that out by now, I'm certain.  Neither of you is a fool.  It's not a dream, either.  Here is . . .limbo, of a sort.  A special kind of limbo, just for the two of you.  You were right when you said this was created for a mental parley, Jack."  Bill paused again, pacing a few steps away from Jack before turning and striding back to his original position in front of the pirate captain.  "What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?"_

_Jack frowned and tilted his head.  "Is that a trick question, mate?"_

_"With you, everything's a trick question."_

_"Something doesn't survive."  Will fought the urge to fidget as he again broke in on the rough banter between the two older men.  He felt . . .out of place here.  Bill might have been his father, but it seemed Jack had an infinitely better grasp of how to react with him.  "If an irresistible force meets an immovable object, something isn't going to survive."_

_"That's right, son. Something isn't going to survive.  In this case, two somethings."_

_"Us.  Are you saying if the link comes back, we're not going to survive it?"_

_"No.  You're both strong.  You can survive it.  If either of you is fighting it, though . . .you're both strong-willed.  You've both built barriers, strong barriers.  When you came back to life, Jack, what was it like?"_

_"Wonderful fun."  Bill just smiled slightly and stared at the pirate until he shrugged and looked away.  "It hurt.  A lot.  My chest, my head, my leg, everything hurt.  It was hard to focus.  I wasn't entirely sure what was real and what was just in my mind."_

_"In other words, it was fast and it was complete.  No slow process, no chance to adjust."_

_Will nodded slowly.  "That's how the link is going to come back.  Hard and fast.  If we're fighting it, we'll tear each other apart."_

_"Exactly.  You wouldn't die, per say, but what's left wouldn't exactly be life, either.  That's why I wouldn't let you touch him, Will, not until he's given his acceptance.  I'm sorry I jumped you."_

_Will smiled slightly.  "A simple 'stop' would have sufficed."_

_Jack shook his head slowly as though arguing with himself.  "There's a simple solution to this conundrum.  We don't bring it back."  He nodded decisively before looking back at Will, flashing his golden grin again.  "So let's abandon the gray misty meadow and go home, shall we?"_

_"Jack, you can't.  You called.  You already asked for his help.  He's bound to help you."_

_"I uncall.  I don't want his life, Bill.  He's got a bloody family now, a good family.  I won't do this to them."_

_"If you just accept it, you'll both be fine.  Trust him.  Drop your guards, just long enough for the link to come back."_

_"And if I don't?"_

_"You die.  Only you can't die.  You've an oath to complete."_

_"I can't die?  So what was I doing a minute ago?"_

_"Dying.  Jack, you're asking me to explain things that I still don't have a complete grasp of."_

_"No, I'm not.  If I wanted to, I'd ask you if all those gods are really separate entities.  I'd ask you what heaven looks like.  I'd ask you what hell looks like.  I'd ask you which bleedin' god is your favorite and if they're really as much like mortals as their followers believe, or as much like divine beings as their followers believe, depending on who we're talking about.  I'd ask if that 'demon' of yours is Death, death, or something else entirely.  I'd ask who winds up where.  I'd ask you to describe what it's like being underwater for ten years tied to a cannon crushed into a little ball with creatures that never see the light of day.  I'd ask where my lovely first mate wound up.  I'd ask how in Hell I'm supposed to kill Michael, and how the bloody stupid British whelp of a captain is going to keep himself from dancin' the hempen jig, let alone the rest of us.  I'd ask—"_

_"I get the picture, Jack."_

_Jack hesitated a moment before nodding.  "I'd ask where you got the bloody dagger before and where I got the pistol.  Is that explainable?"_

_"The rules here are different.  If you need something, you can get it.  It takes a lot of strength, though.  I didn't think either of you would figure out how to do it.  As for why you can't die . . .you want to know what Hell is like?  Break an oath to the gods when they've given you a way out, Jack.  You'll find out soon enough.  Besides, you don't really want to die, do you?"_

_"No, I don't want to die.  Not for a while, at least.  You know what Michael did, don't you?"_

_"Aye, I know.  It wasn't your fault, you know, what happened to the _Pearl_.  You were a good captain for her.  Less blood, more glory, all the ocean to prowl, a captain who treats her as an extension of his soul.  What more could a good ship ask for in her life?"_

_Jack's eyes narrowed.  "You're acting as though she's got a soul, Bill.  I mean a real soul . . ."  _

_"Whoever said she didn't?"  Sheaths of mist moved between the three men, making it hard for Will to see his father.  Bill's clothes again rippled in the wind that drove the mist._

_"You can feel the breeze here, can't you?"_

_Bill nodded at Will and smiled sadly.  "I can.  I'd be upset if I couldn't, considering I helped design this place for you.  There's a lot of people up there who want you to know we're rooting for you two.  Quite a motley collection, your supporters are."_

_"I'm certain.  You ready to do this, whelp?"_

_"Are you ready, Jack?"_

_"As ready as I'll ever be.  We just touch?"_

_"Aye.  Light to light, life to life.  His life will give you the strength you need to erase the mark.  You'll be a free man again, Jack, not bound to anything."_

_"Except to kill Michael, of course."_

_"Of course."  Bill and Jack both grinned before Bill turned back to Will.  "Will, you have to have faith, in yourself, in him.  Be strong.  You're a good man.  You can do this."_

_"Father . . .it was good seeing you, I guess, even given the circumstances."_

_"Good to see you, lad.  You grew up fine, son, even without a father.  I'm proud of you.  And whoever said this was the final goodbye?  You found your way here once.  If you need me again, or this again, you'll find your way back."_

_Will wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, whether to be happy or upset, so instead he just turned his attention to Jack, who raised both hands, palms up, the threads of darkness again beginning to congregate around the scar on his left hand._

_"Ready?"_

_"Ready."  Will raised his hands and touched them to Jack's, hanging on as hard as he could and fighting the urge to scream and pull back as the world seemed to explode around them._

_                                    *                                   *                                   *_

"Will!"

"Jack!"

The two cries reached his ears at the same time.  Will realized that he was gasping for air as he gradually acclimated to the rocking of a ship beneath him.  Gingerly opening his eyes brought a whirl of colors that slowly resolved into people and objects.

"That was . . ."

"Something else."  Jack filled in the blank, breathing hard himself and grinning.  "I'd forgotten how good it feels to be warm."

"What in bloody Hell did you two flaming fools just do?"  Ana-Maria stood behind Jack, while Elizabeth was at Will's side.  It took Will a moment to determine that they were still in the cabin where he and Elizabeth slept, the door to Jack and Ana-Maria's smaller space opened and visible as a darker place in the general darkness behind Jack.  His hands were firmly entwined in Jack's, just as they had been in . . .what had Jack called it?  The Misty Gray Meadow.

"Did you see . . ."

"Everything?  That was quite some ride.  I've never seen things happen from two different points of view before."  

"I don't ever want to do it again, though, no offense meant."

"None taken, lad.  I wouldn't really be keen on doing that again, either."  Jack pulled his hands back, displaying thin lines of blood on both his palms, each line corresponding to one of their scars.  "Bill didn't mention that happening."

"No, he didn't."  Will looked at the blood on his own hands, Jack's on his right one, his on his left.

"Jack Sparrow, what are you talking about?"  Ana-Maria seemed ready to hit one or both of them.

"It's . . .rather complicated."

"Will . . .?"  Elizabeth didn't seem much happier than Ana-Maria did.

Will couldn't think of how to describe what they had seen and done, so he parried her questioning look with a question of his own.  "How'd we get here?"

"You walked.  You were talking about . . .something, but it was hard to make it out.  Will, what _happened_?"

Will shook his head.

Jack shrugged.  "Ana-Maria said call, so I called.  Then things got . . .complicated.  The Gray Misty Meadow, Bootstrap, seeing my hanging and that original duel and my death . . .deaths . . .from both our views at the same time . . .feeling those little black thread things finally die . . ."  Jack laughed softly.  "That was indeed quite the ride."

"So it worked?"  Ana-Maria stared suspiciously between the two grinning men.

"Aye, it worked.  Come on, love, let's go back to bed.  You can hit me and yell at me, Elizabeth can be furious at Will, we can both reconcile and still have time for a bit of fun before our morning tactical discussion with our favorite young captain.  Sound good?"

Jack pulled Ana-Maria into their room and shut the door before she could argue.


	24. Chapter 24: Decisions and Plans

Disclaimer:  I own . . .a wall.  And a ceiling.  With lovely pictures pasted all over them.  But I cannot claim the creation of any of the characters filling those pictures.

AN:  Sorry it took so long to update.  I hope this chapter isn't too disappointing.  Jaraen (my muse) gave me fits about it.  It might still be open to revision.  I've given up on attempting to answer individual reviews, but a hearty thanks to all who do review.  I take each into account.  I'll try to answer any questions that are contained in reviews, though.  Answers to questions will start next chapter, based on all reviews since . . .a long time ago.  I'd start here, but I'm so tired at the moment I can't even see straight.  Well, hope you enjoy.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 24**

"I can't just go back to Johnson."

"Why not?"  Jack raised his head and met the younger captain's gaze, peering over Ana-Maria's shoulder.  "They wanted you to be commodore before.  Go back.  His friends," Jack nodded towards Rollin, sitting stiff-backed in the chair next to his commander, "in port will back you, you can blast the hell out of anything that gets in your way on the water, and then you can take over and everyone will be satisfied."

"The _Intrepid_ isn't large enough to sack a port."  Brian sighed as Rollin glanced up sharply.  "I will not fire the first shot on any British ship or British port.  If we are fired upon, only then will I return fire.  Only then."

"You'll be risking your life, your crew and your ship trying to play honorable like that, lad."

"I already forfeited my life and my ship when I helped get you and the boy out of that bloody gaol.  And the reason we are not going back to Johnson is so that I do _not _lose the lives of any of my crewmen or see my ship destroyed."

"So what _are_ you going to do, then?"

"We need to find a way to draw Hallson out to us.  A _legitimate_ way, one that won't give him the right to fire upon us until we've had negotiations."

A slow grin spread across Jack's face.  "You're bargaining he won't wait to negotiate.  He'll have the first shot fired, then you'll be free to act in self-defense."

"Aye.  Then I'll be free to act in self-defense, and my ship and my crew will be safe."

Will finally spoke up from his seat at the table.  "And you?"  Brian simply looked away.  "Brian, and you?"

"I'll lose the _Intrepid_ at least, be reduced in rank.  If I can prove Hallson was breaking British law, and I return bearing a large enough gift, I should be able to keep myself from facing the firing squad."

"That's not right."  Will shook his head slowly, his gaze troubled as he watched the young captain.

"I knew what I was doing when I offered to help you, Will.  My godson was more of a priority than my career."

"Than your life?"

"Three for one isn't a bad trade, I'd say.  What happens to me isn't important, though.  What will be will be.  Right now we need to figure out what we're going to do with the rest of you."

Jack shrugged, a slight grin still on his face.  "I'm coming back with you to Johnson, lad.  I'm going to kill myself a traitor, and if you'd like I'll kill yours, as well."

"Hallson's mine, Jack."  Brian looked askance at the blacksmith.  He had never heard such cold hatred from Will, a cold hatred that nearly approached bloodlust.  "He hurt my children.  He tried to hurt Elizabeth.  He's mine."

Jack nodded slowly, a new tension in his posture, and Will hurriedly stifled the anger and hatred that was racing through his mind, hoping to keep the pirate from seeing exactly how deep it ran.  "All right.  He's yours, Will."

"If we're done deciding who gets to kill who, do you think we could return to the conversation at hand?"

"You said you wanted to come bearing a gift."  Jack paused, gesturing with one hand, the other wrapped around Ana-Maria's stomach, pulling her close to him.  "What kind of gift did you have in mind?"

"A ship, at the least."

"A ship.  Any better specifications than that, mate?"

"A ship like we're supposed to be hunting now."

Ana-Maria straightened abruptly.  "A pirate ship.  You want us to give you the location of a pirate ship."

"No, son, we're not turning in any of the brethren to you."

"Why?  Pirate honor?  Weren't you just saying it's going to get me killed, my honor?  Yours is going to get us all killed.  Just choose someone, someone whose methods you disagree with, and give me a likely area for the ship to be in.  You don't have to do anything else."

"Just turn someone over to you and cower like a whipped dog?"

"That's not what I said, and it's not what I meant."

"Who're you at war with now?  Why don't you go after one of them?"

"If that's what we must do, then we shall.  However, the chances of success against a prepared and armed opponent as opposed to an unprepared pirate ship are much slimmer."

"Not very honorable there, are you, mate?"

"He's not your mate, and his plan is a good one, pirate."  Rollin stood abruptly, turning to glare at Jack, who merely grinned, gold teeth flashing.

"I'm trying to help you, Jack, and I'm trying to keep myself alive.  Is that really so bad?"

"You're turning out just like him, y'know?  You need something to bolster your career, go kill some pirates and either sink or steal their ship."

  
"Can you tell me most pirates haven't stolen their ship themselves?  And I am not like Hallson, Captain Sparrow.  I don't slaughter men who can't defend themselves.  Anyone who surrenders I will see receives a fair trial."

"Before they dance the hempen jig.  And me?  What're you goin' t' do with Ana-Maria and I?  We won't fit into your plan very well."

"Jack, he saved your life.  You know who he is and you know what he's done with his life.  He's an honest man.  You told me yourself you don't agree with some of the things other pirate captains do.  Give him the name and location of one of them.  Get a real killer off the seas."  Will attempted to mediate what seemed to be growing into a heated dispute very quickly.

"And in return you'll return to Johnson and draw the cowards out of their nest."

"Yes."

"And you'll let me kill Michael."

"I wouldn't dream of standing in your way."

"Jack, no.  We can't do this.  Remember the Code."  Ana-Maria pulled away from the pirate captain, and Will caught a glimmer of uncertainty creep its way across the link.

"The one we've been ignoring for the past decade?  That code, love?"

Ana-Maria looked down, a scowl on her face.

"Ana-Maria, I'm not going to turn over one of the brethren.  Don't worry."

This time it was Brian who scowled.  "Fine then, Captain Sparrow, we can—"

"Jason Compson is the captain of a lovely little ship name of the _Jade_.  Might o' heard of him.  Tended to haunt the waters 'round Port Paix, recently shifted his huntin' grounds to . . .here."  Jack reached over and traced a circle on the map spread across the table.  "Right on the way home, too.  Shouldn't take too long t' find him, not with my help.  Decent commander, but nothin' t' write home about.  Too bloodthirsty for my likin', though some of his crew're decent men."  Jack cut his eyes back up to Ana-Maria.  "And he's not one of the brethren, love.  Privateer."

"What about his ship?"

"Twenty-eight guns, but his crew, last I heard, wasn't large enough t' man 'em all at one time.  Catch 'em right and you should be able t' take the ship without too much damage t' either yours or his."

"Catch him right?"

"Aye.  Take a bit of forethought and maneuvering once we find him, but shouldn't be too hard."

"Speed?"

"Fast ship.  Not as fast as the _Pearl_ was, but a fast ship.  You'll have to have the advantage with the winds."

"Once boarded, what kind of resistance should we expect?"

"Same as with anyone else, son.  Jason 'imself, he'll fight for his ship 'til he can't stand anymore.  Rest of the men . . .pirates by a different name.  Take Compson out, make 'em a good offer, and they should settle down right quick."

"A good offer?"

"Just tell 'em they won't hang."

"He can't promise that.  That's for British law to decide."  Rollin backed down again as his captain turned on him, a scowl upon his face.

"Tell 'em they won't hang, Brian.  Leave the how to me."  Jack grinned, gold teeth flashing, and Will found himself grinning, too.

The next week was going to be very interesting.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Will, how can you ask me to do this?"  The wind pulled teasingly at Elizabeth's hair despite the fact that she had tied it back.  A blush of righteous anger added to the red of sunburn on her face as she stared at Will, ignoring all other activity on deck.

Everyone else seemed content to ignore them, too, so long as they didn't do anything exceptionally interesting like come to blows.

"Elizabeth, we're going to be in at least two battles.  Jack thinks he and Brian can manage the first one without too much damage to ships or men, but Hallson and Rollin aren't going to go down easily."

"I can fight.  You know I can.  You've seen me."

"I know.  Someone has to stay with the children, though.  Brian says he knows a port nearby where you and Jack and Ana can stay.  We'll come back for you when we're able."

"And if you're not able?"

Will looked away.

"Will, if you're not able?"

"You'll get by."

"I'm not trying to be a coward, Will, but this isn't our fight.  Not at all.  I understand you want to stay, especially with everything that's happened with you and Jack, but I can't—"

"You can and you will.  I'll not see my children caught amidst a firefight, and I'll not abandon my friends.  I _can't_.  What do you think it would be like for me, sitting somewhere safe while Jack fought for his life, able to sense what was happening but do nothing?  I'd go mad, Eliabeth."

"I know you can't do that.  I wouldn't want you to.  Can't you see, that's what it's going to be for _me_, knowing you're out here fighting, not able to do anything.  I don't want to see Jack and Ana in another fight, either.  Isn't there anyone we could leave them with, someone you know, or Brian knows, or even Jack or Ana-Maria?"

"You want to abandon them with strangers?"  Will regretted the harshness of his tone as Elizabeth looked down, her eyes glinting brightly with the beginnings of unshed tears, whether of frustration or grief he wasn't entirely certain.

"No.  That's not what I want.  If you want me to stay with them, I'll stay.  Just make damn sure you come back for me, William Turner."

"I'll come back, Elizabeth.  I swear, I'll come back.  Not all the demons of hell could keep me from coming back for my family, and considering I've come within inches of seeing hell, that's saying quite a bit."

Elizabeth smiled slightly, and Will tilted her chin up, bringing his lips against hers in a long, slow kiss that ended in a simple embrace.

"I should go tell the children."  Elizabeth broke their mutual silence with a small whisper, pulling free of his protective arms and walking away, never meeting his gaze.

Will wasn't surprised when Jack appeared at his side, the grin gone from his face again, sympathy edging cautiously over the link as though he feared it would be rejected.

"That's one promise you're goin' to have to keep, son."

Will's only answer was a nod as his wife disappeared among the sailors.

It was one promise he intended on keeping with all his heart.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"I don't _want_ to leave, momma!  I want to help poppa and Uncle Jack and Godpapa Brian and everyone!"  Ana's fists were clenched at her side as she stared at her mother, her dark eyes flashing with a fire that Elizabeth found all too familiar.

"We fought before.  We did good.  Uncle Jack and the Captain both said so."  Jack's hands were crossed over his chest, the same defiant light in his eyes that shone from his twin's.

"I know you want to help, but you can't.  This is something that they have to do themselves.  Momma doesn't get to stay, either."

"Why not?  You've fought by Poppa's side all the other times."  Jack nodded in agreement with Ana's question.

Elizabeth sighed in frustration.  She wanted to stay by Will's side again, more than anything, but she had to put her family first.  "Poppa and Uncle Jack and Godpapa Brian need to be able to concentrate.  They'll be able to concentrate better if they don't think they have to worry about you."

"Why would they have to worry about us?  We can fight.  We killed that soldier before.  We could do it again, if we had to."

Something seemed to freeze in Elizabeth's heart as her son calmly spoke those words, his sister nodding hesitantly a moment afterwards.

"Momma, please."  Ana's eyes were wide now and pleading, though Jack's still blazed with defiance.

"I've seen firefights before, Mother.  I've helped on the gun deck.  Ask Godpapa Brian.  There's others aboard, too.  We help bring the cartridges for the guns."

"I think I will ask Brian about that, Jack."  Elizabeth stood abruptly, the two children following her as she made her way out on deck and over to where Brian and another officer she didn't know were discussing something.  She waited politely until he turned to acknowledge her presence.  "Captain Lanebridges, a word, please?"

"Of course, m'lady."  Brian's expression didn't change, and Elizabeth wondered briefly if she was doing a much better job at hiding her feelings than she thought she was.

"In private, Captain, if you wouldn't mind."

Brian nodded his assent, gesturing towards the great cabin she and the children had just left.  Elizabeth waited until he was inside before instantly closing the door, much to the chagrin of the twins, who had continued to surreptitiously follow.

"Brian, I thought you said Jack would be safe on the _Intrepid_."

"He was.  He is."

"He says you had him hauling cartridges to the gunners.  I'd hardly call that safe."

"It's relatively safe.  You know we're a naval vessel, Elizabeth.  I tried to get him to simply stay out of sight during the first engagement we had.  He . . .disliked that intensely, to put it politely.  He's a good powder-monkey, though, and the older boys look out for him."

"So why exactly do you have to drop us at port then, Captain?"

"I didn't think you would wish for him and Ana to be involved in what is going to occur."

"He and Ana wish to stay."  Elizabeth refrained from adding that she wished to stay, as well.

"If you wish for them to stay, they may.  I hope you have taken proper stock of the dangers inherent in what we are planning."

"I realize the risks inherent.  I'm wondering if you realize all the risks inherent, though."

"Risks inherent with what?"

"With having Jack and Will fighting so soon after . . .everything."

"Why?  They seemed fine.  Even Jack seemed fine, much better than he was yesterday."

"He is."  Brian simply stared at her questioningly, urging her to continue.  "It's complicated.  The link is back again, though, even stronger than before, if that's possible.  What do you think is going to happen if one of them ends up dead and the other doesn't?  If Will . . .dies . . ."  Elizabeth's tongue seemed to thicken as she forced the word out.  "Jack will have Ana.  What if it's Jack who isn't fast enough, though?  Do you think you could handle Will when he's _felt_ every moment of his brother's death, if the people who caused it are right there in front of him?"

Brian tilted his head slightly.  "Do you think you could?"

"I don't know.  I think I'd have a better chance than you would, though."

The young captain considered for a moment before nodding slowly.  "If you truly wish to stay, I shall of course allow it."

"I need to stay, Brian."  Elizabeth stepped forward and took his hands in her own.  "Our family needs to stay together now."

"I understand.  I expect you to tell Will.  I shall inform Jack and Ana and assign them duties to keep them out of mischief.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a course change to make, and I should like to do it before my men begin thinking something improper is occurring."

Elizabeth smiled and blushed slightly.  She hadn't thought of what her dragging Brian off alone into his cabin might look like to anyone else.

"Thank you, Brian.  We owe you, more than we can ever repay."

The young captain smiled and shook his head.  "You're the only family of any kind I have out here, Elizabeth.  Family cares for family."

He shrugged as he opened the door and stepped out on deck, smiling at the two children who had just jumped away from the door, wide grins on their faces.

"You don't owe me a thing."


	25. Chapter 25: Sightings

Disclaimer:  Legally pointless, politically courteous, and insanely intriguingly fun to write if any humor remains in the mind . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 25**

"Lad?"

"Just leave me be, Jack."  Will turned his head away from the pirate, leaning further over the railing, staring intently off into the dark.

"I would, if not for the fact that you're startin' t' make my head hurt here."

Will didn't shift his position or his tone of voice, though his muscles tightened perceptively.  "I'm sorry."

As the silence stretched Will dared to hope that the pirate might actually have decided to leave him in peace.

"That certainly helped."

The heavy sarcasm underlining the words caused Will to spin around at last, dark eyes glinting.  "I've a right to be angry.  I dealt with everything you threw at me before.  You can handle this."

"I tried to give you a way out.  Several times.  You didn't take them and neither will I.  She's tryin' t' do what's right by all of you."

"She's placed our children and herself in harms way.  That's not right by anybody."

"Isn't it?  Son, she's been by your side every other time.  She saved your ruddy damned life at the Isla de Muerta.  I couldn't have, not with Barbossa.  She's a strong woman, Elizabeth is, and you knew that when you asked for her hand.  Now you're just dealing with the consequences."

"The children shouldn't be here."

"Jack's been on this ship before, in engagements with her before.  Brian said he acted as a powder monkey.  Ana can, too.  Will, they want to stay with you.  You've got a bloody family that wants to stay by your side and you're throwing a fit about it."

"I am _not_ throwing a fit."  Will kept his voice level and cool.

"No.  Of course not."

"I'm not!"

"They'll be safe, Will.  You know Brian would die before letting anything happen to them.  So would I."

"You can't be everywhere at once."  _And neither can I_.  "What if the ship sinks?  What if we lose?"

"Then we lose, or the ship sinks.  You'll get through it with your family, with them by your side.  That's not something to be taken lightly."  Jack rubbed a hand forcefully over his forehead.  "It's too late to do anything about it now, all right?  Please, just calm down."  

"Brian should have asked me before he changed course."

"Don't trust Elizabeth to make decisions for herself now?  She wouldn't go.  You'd end up dragging her kicking and screaming off the ship, and trust me, she would kick and scream.  I've seen her do it."

"She wouldn't."

"She would."

"Not in front of the children."

"Oh, yes, forgot about the two ten-year-olds also kicking and screaming.  You know what, that sounds like fun, actually.  Let's go try it.  Who do you think would get free and run back to the ship faster?  I'm placing my money on one of the twins . . .whichever decides to degenerate to biting first.  Unless, of course, Elizabeth beats them to the idea."

"Jack . . ."  Will smiled in spite of himself at the image of his wife biting one of the redcoats.  "I want them to be safe."

"Life's dangerous, Will.  You can't always protect them.  Let them grow up.  Your son . . .he b'longs t' the sea already, lad.  You can see it in him.  Your lass . . .she's got her mother's spirit.  Try to protect 'em too much, you'll smother them, and they'll skitter away.  Then you'll hear nary a word from them 'til either you or they stand on death's door."

"Do you want them here?"

"Not really.  I can understand them wantin' t' stay, though, and I can respect their wishes."

"They're children, Jack.  They're just children."

"I've been fendin' for m'self since I was younger than them, Will.  They grew up hard and fast.  Keepin' my visits a secret when they were little, the Brotherhood, now their first kill . . .They're a lot more than just children, son."

"Shows what a wonderful father I am, aye?  First kill at ten."  Will's fingers unclenched and he sighed, his head hanging down.  God above, he was so tired of everything . . .

"Don't even start thinkin' like that, mate.  You've always done what's right by them.  You can't control the world."

Will smiled slightly.  "It would be much simpler if I could."

"Not really.  Feeling better?"

"Not really."

"Go talk to 'Lizabeth, William, before you frighten the night watch even more.  They thought you were the sane one among us."

"I am."  The smile grew for a moment and then faded.  "Sorry about your head.  Doesn't hurt too bad, does it?"

"No.  Get on with ye.  That lass of yours is goin' t' be just about pacing a hole through the decking by now."

Will laughed softly.  "All right.  Good night, Jack."

"G'night, son."

Will couldn't help but notice a grimace of pain on Jack's face as the pirate turned back to the ocean, taking Will's spot at the rail.  A flicker of guilt traced through his mind as he went to find his wife, carefully blocking off the link, leaving Jack to his own thoughts.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

It didn't take Ana-Maria long to find Jack once she decided to look for him.  He was leaning against the railing . . .or, more accurately, nearly doubled over the railing, his hands alternating between rubbing at his temples and at his eyes.  The female pirate sighed softly as she watched him for a moment before walking up behind him.

"Jack."  Ana-Maria gave him fair warning before leaning her head lightly against his shoulder.

"Love.  Thought you'd be sleeping.  Long day today.  Longer one ahead."  Jack straightened slightly, though his hands continued their restless massaging of his head, causing the beaded braids to clank together as he repeatedly shoved them back.

"Here, Jack."  Ana-Maria reached around his head and tied his hair back with the red bandana she pulled from her pocket.  "It's the one Brian insisted you not wear the first time we were here.  I cleaned it while you were sleeping.  Didn't think to give it back, with all that's been happening."  She paused and smiled as he muttered something that might have been a thank you.  "As for sleeping . . .I'll sleep when you sleep, cap'n, which I'm thinking won't be for a bit yet.  Will?"

"What about him?"

"This is his work, aye?"

"He's worried about Elizabeth and his demon son and his daughter.  Can't say as I blame him."

"I know.  It was her choice, though.  I understand why she wants to stay.  She's always had his back before.  She wants to again.  If you ever tried to ditch me before going into a fight . . .I'd slap you and do the exact same thing."  Ana-Maria smoothed the trinkets back again, rubbing lightly at his temple before giving a gentle tug on his arm.  "Come here, love."

Jack blinked unsteadily at her.  "Come where?  Not sure I really want to move.  Feels good here, the wind and the sea and the sky . . ."

Ana-Maria smiled and shrugged, understanding what he was trying to say.  "Then don't move.  Just keep facing your mistress, Jack."  The pirate captain sighed and did as he was told, his right hand continuing to rub at his temple and around his eyes.

Ana-Maria softly placed deft hands on his neck, feeling the tightly bunched muscles.  Gently, slowly, she applied pressure, her hands quickly finding a rhythm as she coaxed the tension out of the pirate's body.  A few soft moans from her captain was all the convincing she needed that it was helping.

Time seemed to slow as Ana-Maria studied the man under her hands, his lean body, far too often scarred, his dark hair, his sword and pistol still strapped to his side, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands . . .

"Jack?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Jack, you can't fall asleep on the railing."

"I most certainly could, love."

"Captain Lanebridges would find it highly entertaining when you couldn't stand up tomorrow."

"I can stand up."

"You're not really awake, are you, Jack Sparrow?"  Ana-Maria tugged on his shoulder again, and the pirate reluctantly stumbled forward.

"Who needs to be awake?"

"No one.  Come to bed and lie down, love."

"Only if you're coming."

"Of course I'm coming."  The darkness didn't cause any problems for the two pirates as they picked their way to their bed, or for Ana-Maria as she swiftly unbuttoned Jack's shirt and set it aside before gently shoving him towards the bed.  "Lie down, Jack."

She didn't have to ask twice.

"Jack, do want me to finish your massage?"

"No, love.  I just want you to rest with me."  Jack never opened his eyes as he made his request, reaching over to grab Ana-Maria's wrist.

The female pirate smiled and climbed easily up onto the bed, settling Jack's arm around her and waiting for his breathing to become steady and rhythmic again before surrendering to dreams herself.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Adam?"

Adam smiled in relief as the blacksmith whispered his name and met his gaze with blessedly lucid dark eyes.

"Hello, Robert.  Welcome back to the land of the living."

Robert shifted slightly, hissing slightly through his teeth as sore muscles and partially-healed wounds resisted any attempt at movement.  "Can I get an extension on my leave?"

Crallon smiled thinly.  "I think your leave was more than long enough.  You scared me half to death.  I thought I was going to end up guarding a corpse."

"Well, that's better than me.  I remember being fairly certain I was going to _become_ a corpse.  What happened?"

"You were delirious most of the night.  You had a fever, but I think it was more drug than injury-induced.  I bandaged you up as best I could and stayed here with you."

"Thank you."

"It was the least I could do, considering my commander put you in here.  You've committed no crime.  He's no right to-"

"He's set himself above right and wrong, Adam.  He'll get his, though.  The Captain will come back, and he'll have Turner and . . ."  Robert trailed off at the pained look in the redcoat's eye.  "They haven't . . .they can't have caught them . . ."

"Michael drew Turner's blood.  We saw it on his sword.  He fights with a poisoned blade, Robert.  He swears Will's dead by now."

"Oh, no . . .oh . . .god, I should have seen . . ."  Robert's face paled alarmingly as he struggled to stand.

"Oh, no you don't.  We lost one of our crazy blacksmiths; we're not losing another.  Sit and stay seated.  There was nothing you could have done for Will.  You did all you could.  You should have gone with the Captain."

"I needed to stay here, in case they needed to contact someone they trusted."

"I know.  It doesn't matter, anyway.  He's not going to touch you again."  Adam grinned again, a hint of vindictiveness edging his voice.  "If he's smart, he'll simply take the _Defender_ and Jenkin and his bloody mercenary and take off."

"What do you . . .?"

The sound of running footsteps and shouts of alarm echoed faintly, eerily into the silence of the brig.

"What's that?"

"That would be a present and card for the Commodore."

"Present and card?"  Robert eyed the marine warily even as a heavier slur began to influence his words, his system still recovering from all the drugs Michael had used on him.

"Well, more of a . . .friendly warning than a card.  If he'll just step down, everything is going to be all right."

"Uh-huh."  The blacksmith continued to fight a losing battle against exhaustion.  "Wake me if one of two things happens.  One, Hell turns into Greenland.  Two, Hallson willingly relinquishes his career.  I expect I'll see you somewhere very cold."  Robert sighed as his eyes closed of their own volition, sleep's healing embrace claiming him once more.

"At least you'll be able to see."  Adam gently checked the blacksmith's body temperature, content that it was relatively low.

It had been one hell of a night, attempting to keep the injured and drugged man from hurting himself even more as he struggled against unknown opponents.  Once the drugs had started wearing off things the situation had improved significantly, but it was definitely a night that Adam Crallon would remember for a long, long time.

Hallson wouldn't have any doubts about what the people thought of him once he read that note.

If he was smart, he would leave before the threats could become active.

Adam almost hoped that any intelligence Hallson might have had was driven aside.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"How _dare_ they!  How _dare_ they!  The utter gall . . .the . . .the . . ."  Hallson stopped his furious pacing and wheeled on Michael.  "What do you think of all of this?"

Michael stared for a moment at the parchment that was being shoved under his nose, fighting twin urges to smile and draw his sword.

"I'd say they're unhappy."

"Unhappy?  _Unhappy_?!  What the hell have they got to be unhappy about?  Even if they are _unhappy_, they've no right to leave . . .to leave . . ."

"Death threats?"

The commodore's face was turning a rather interesting shade of purple as he paced about.  "Death threats!  The bloody fools have the gall to leave me _death threats_!  An ultimatum to their commanding officer, tacked to my door with one of Turner's bloody daggers, and not a single person saw a thing, no, not a bloody _one_!"

"Are their terms really that unreasonable?  Let the blacksmith go and let their Captain come home.  They'll settle down."

"I shouldn't _have_ to settle them down!  I shouldn't bloody well have to!  I'm the commander here!  Not them!  Not him!"  Hallson's fingers slowly contracted around the note, curling it into a ball.  "They'll learn that quickly enough.  They can't order me about."

The commodore tossed the letter down onto his desk beside the dagger before turning and storming from his office.

Michael allowed himself the satisfaction of a smile as he moved over to the desk and picked up the note before casually tossing it aside and focusing on the dagger.

It was a beautiful weapon, perfectly balanced with a black-leather handle, the blade well-polished and well-honed.

The smile broadened as the mercenary pocketed the weapon.

He would see it put to good use, even if that good use was not what its late maker would have liked.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The sun was well past midday, the winds apparently eager to see the _Intrepid_ home, pushing her ever deeper into the area that Jack had marked as the _Jade_'s territory.

"Cap'n!  Sail ho!"

Brian wasn't surprised to find that Jack Sparrow seemed to instantly materialize at his side as the cry rang out over the deck, Rollin and Jordan, his two lieutenants, hanging back as though suddenly uncertain where their places were.

A quick check through his spyglass discerned the crisp white sails of the other vessel, and Brian called a quick course change, keeping the wind to the back of the _Intrepid_, already maneuvering for position in what he hoped would be a swift and bloodless battle.

Brian handed the spyglass to the pirate by his side.  "Look like the ship, Sparrow?"

Jack studied the other ship for a moment.  "Aye, _captain_, that'll be the one."

"You're certain?"

"I'm certain."

"Are you staying above decks?"

Jack shut the spyglass with a snap before handing it back to the younger captain, a gold-toothed grin appearing on his face.  "Aye.  I'm goin' t' board her with you, mate."

Brian nodded.  "Is that all you'll be doing?"

"I'll do anythin' that's necessary."

"Indeed, I believe you will."

The young captain smiled slightly before surreptitiously stepping back, a move that placed him amidst his officers.

"Gentlmen . . .prepare for battle."


	26. Chapter 26: Preparations

AN:  I'm a bad author.  Bad, bad author.  I'm so sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long, but a million things were happening, and, well, I'm sorry.  There are only two more chapters left to this story, and I'll try to get them out ASAP.  For the few of you that I know are reading my LotR one, I'll then devote my free time (free time?  What is that?) to finishing it.  So . . .hope you enjoy.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 26**

It was already clear that the _Intrepid_ had the strategic advantage.  The wind filled her sails, urging her onward, pushing her to greater speeds, closer and closer to her target . . .a target that they wanted to take intact.

A target that it was taking an eternity to reach, the distance far too wide between the two ships for any communication to be possible, though thanks to the _Intrepid's _speed the distance was closing fast.

"God, if I'm to stand a prayer again Hallson, I need that ship.  Please . . ."  Brian knew that his officers couldn't have heard the whisper, not over the scramble of well-trained men who armed the guns and manned their stations, preparing for a battle that he'd rather not engage in.

Someone pressed the speaking cone into his hand and he eyed the closing distance between the ships, the sluggish movements as the _Jade_ struggled to find a favorable wind, the scurry as every other gun-port was opened, the other half left closed.

A half-crew?  Only enough for half the guns?  Or a trick, with the other ports ready to be opened at a moments notice?

"Ahoy the _Jade_!  This is the HMS _Intrepid_!  You are ordered to stand down and furl your sails for inspection!"  Brian strained his ears to hear the response from the other ship, simply shouted over the surf, no speaking cone or other device used to amplify the gravelly voice.

"This is Captain Compson of the _Jade_, and we will not stand for an inspection from the British navy!  We are not British citizens—"

"No.  Yet your ship is implicated in attacks on several British vessels.  You are outgunned, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered.  Any man who stands down I will see receives a fair trial."

The ships were closer now, and the young captain could see with his unaided eyes the man that he was talking to.  The other captain's hair was so very fair that it appeared white, a striking contrast to his dark tan.  A pistol was clutched in one hand, his other hanging to one of the lines as he stared across at the British warship, apparently hoping that just by scowling deeply enough he could make it simply vanish.

"We're not surrendering, Captain."

Brian frowned slightly.  He had expected this, but still . . .

"Fire a warning shot, across the bow."

Gunners scurried to follow his orders, halting a moment later in confusion as another voice cut across the water, also lacking amplification but still not seeming strained or hoarse.

"Come on now, Jason.  Don't be so bloody quick to end what could be the most important parley in your pathetic life."

This was the voice of a man used to shouting orders and striking bargains no matter what was raging around him.

He was also treading a precarious line at the moment, having no right to speak in this matter.  Only Brian's quick hand on Rollin's shoulder kept him from striding to the pirate captain and either shoving him overboard or running him through on the spot.

"Belay that order."  The gunners stood down uncertainly, looking between their captain and the flamboyant pirate leaning over the railing, hands moving in a hypnotizing rhythm as he talked.

"Sparrow."  There was a new venom in the privateer captain's voice.

Brian watched in fascination as the crew of the enemy vessel shifted uncomfortably, people bending towards each other, pointing across the water.

It was a different voice that yelled across the churning sea between the ships now, slightly younger, curious and somewhat awe-struck rather than venomous.  "You really Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow, son, and aye, that's me, in the living flesh."

Brian understood the light tinge of irony that infiltrated Jack's voice and smiled despite the situation.

"Aren't you s'posed t' have a beard with funny things tied into it?"

Jack's grin didn't falter.  "Decided to see if shaving made me look younger."

"Oh."  The younger man hesitated.  "Does it?"

"Does it matter?"

Compson broke in before the absurd conversation could continue to the point where Brian couldn't help but laugh.  "Where's yer ship, Sparrow?  Never thought I'd see your sorry hide off your ship."

The hesitation was only for a fraction of a second, and Brian almost convinced himself that it hadn't been present at all.

"The _Pearl_'_s_ somewhere safe, somewhere where you can't find her."

Compson's eyes narrowed.  "Did you lose her again, Sparrow?  On another mad hunt across the world for a ship that should've been reduced to kindling long ago?"

"No, Jason.  I know exactly where my ship is.  As for ship's being reduced to kindling, that's what yours is going to be if you don't suddenly develop a bit of sense."

"I've got all the sense I need.  If I surrender to your bloody British playmate, my men will be dead, as will I be, and God only knows what he'll do with my ship."

"He intends to use it to mutiny against a madman who threw him out of his garrison, where, I might add, he was quite well-liked."

Brian's officers shifted nervously at the use of the word 'mutiny', and the young captain again took over negotiations.  "I guarantee that any man who surrenders will not be hung . . .or shot, starved or otherwise encouraged to meet their Maker."  It took a supreme effort of will not to roll his eyes or otherwise show contempt as the crew of the _Jade_ stiffened and then relaxed, muttering among themselves.

"He means it, Jason.  He needs your ship, not your life.  He's a good man, keeps his word."

"He's British Navy."  The words were spat as though they were poison.  "He'll kill us, word or no word.  The British are not exactly well-known for the kindly treatment of anyone they see as their enemy."

"Nor are they monsters.  I've been safe with him.  Would I be allowed on deck, allowed to negotiate, if he was just a bloodthirsty captain out for promotion?  I know there's some sense somewhere in that mind of yours, Compson.  Shake it loose."

Again the crew of the _Jade_ shifted, people whispering to each other, and Brian could sense them shifting to his point of view.

"You'll not set foot on my ship, any of you.  I swear I'll be dead before I see her in your hands."

"Does your crew agree with you, Jason?  Are you willing t' die defending that boat, lads?  Doesn't hardly seem worth it, when you've got a guarantee of your life, your freedom—"

Rollin seemed about to protest again, but a swift glance from Brian stilled his tongue.

" Simply by laying down your arms and letting this man here do what needs to be done."  Jack's tone changed as he turned his eyes from Jason to the other privateers visible on deck.  "Do you really owe him your lives?  Has he earned that much allegiance?  Last I heard his mistakes got you driven from your normal hunting grounds, and now he's guided you right into the British Royal Navy.  Not exactly the most brilliant of captains, now is he?"

"Sparrow . . ."  Compson's voice was more of a growl than an actual language.

"He hasn't earned your loyalty.  If you want to die for no reason, be my guest, but remember that you don't owe—"

The sound of the pistol discharging was strangely flat, the vastness of the ocean deadening the sound, but Brian could hear the impact as it struck the railing inches from the pirate captain, sending splinters flying.  He also caught a sharp cry of alarm and the sounds of a brief struggle behind him as he turned and signaled to one of his marines before turning his full attention to the now-fuming captain of the _Jade_.

"-oody hypocrite!  Everyone hears how Jack Sparrow hates mutinies, how Jack Sparrow was mutinied against for no reason, how Jack Sparrow—"

Sparrow simply tilted his head and continued to stare at the other man, not so much as twitching a muscle when a rifle fired across the still-diminishing distance between the ships, cutting Jason Compson off mid-thought.  The privateer swayed for a moment, one hand going to his chest as though to staunch the flow of blood, before he collapsed.

"You were never worthy of that ship, Jason."  Jack shook his head and turned to survey the rest of the privateer crew, all still fully armed.

Brian decided to try one more time to end the conflict without blood being shed or ships damaged.  "If I have to kill every man aboard that ship to take it, I shall.  I do not wish to shed blood if it can be avoided, though.  Set down your weapons and allow my men to board and nothing shall happen to you."

"Y'promise ye'll take good care o' the lads?  Promise on yer mother and any gods ye follow that ye'll no' hurt them, none of them, not e'en once ye've done whate'er it is ye need t' do?"  The man who stepped forward to speak for the crew of the _Jade_ seemed completely unperturbed by his late captain's body lying at his feet.

"I swear to it."

"And ye vouch fer him, aye, Jack Sparrow?"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and aye, I vouch for him.  He'll do as he says."

The man nodded slowly and turned to the other crewmen on deck.  For what seemed an interminable amount of time their voices rose and fell in contained argument before the spokesman again stepped forward.

"We agree t' yer terms, Captain.  See that none o' the lads are hurt, and we promise not t' put up any resistance."  The crew of the _Jade_ continued to look between Jack and Brian, their uneasiness showing.

"I thank you gentlemen for seeing reason, and as I said before, your safety is guaranteed."

Brian stepped back and issued the orders that would bring them within easy boarding range of the _Jade_, relief making him nearly giddy.

"You've got a bloody good marksman there, lad."

"I know.  I rather take affront to people attempting to pick off my negotiators, even if they weren't exactly appointed the job."

"We got you your ship, didn't we, without a scratch to either her or your lovely lass here."

The young captain couldn't help but grin at the pirate.  "We did indeed, and I thank you for that.  Just try to be more careful, all right?  If he'd been any better of a shot . . ."

"He was always a bad shot."  Jack shrugged.  "Just keep your word to those men."

"I will, Jack.  You know that."

Jack's grin reappeared.  "Aye, I do."

"Then don't worry about it.  And if you're looking for Will, Elizabeth dragged him down below."

The grin faded slightly.  "I know.  I've got something to take care of, all right?"

"All right."  Brian watched the pirate quickly wend his way through the crew.

They had the extra ship that could make all the difference in the battle that he knew was coming.  The _Intrepid_ could outmaneuver the _Defender_, but when it came to firepower she was sorely outclassed.  With two ships, though, harassing from either side, wolves of the sea hunting in a pack . . .aye, this would be much, much better.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"—certain everything will be fine.  Just stay calm.  He'll understand."  Elizabeth gently rubbed her hands over her husband's taught shoulders and upper back, a short, bitter laugh the only answer Jack could hear.

"Elizabeth, I'd like to talk to your husband.  Alone."

Elizabeth hesitated, looking between the two men uncertainly, opening her mouth to protest.

"Please, love.  I promise not to eat him for dinner or some such."

Finally Elizabeth nodded and, skirting the pirate with as much distance as she could, slipped past him and upstairs.

"Will."

The blacksmith turned away, rubbing one hand through his hair as he watched his children work, their faces intent in the way that only the young who feel they have something to prove can master.

"Will, what in hell was that up there?"

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't explain much.  Elizabeth had to physically restrain you, didn't she, to keep you from running at me?  And that didn't stop you from screaming in my head.  Good thing I already knew what Jason's response would be, because I definitely wasn't able t' hear much of it."

Even without the link Will would have recognized the contained frustration and anger by the abbreviated hand gestures that the pirate used unconsciously.

The blacksmith pulled his arms in closer to his chest and lowered his head.  "I'm sorry.  It was just . . .when he shot at you . . .God, it was like the Brotherhood and Nerla all over again, only worse, because even in my head I didn't want you to die, it wasn't just forced on me . . .and I should've thought, been in better control . . .I didn't mean to react like that.  I'll be more careful."

The aura of barely contained energy and fury seemed to evaporate in the space of a few seconds as Jack stared hard at the younger man.  "You really couldn't help yourself."

"No.  I'm sorry."

"You've already said that.  Several times.  I am, too.  I hadn't thought about it bein' anything like when you were with the Brotherhood."

"You weren't moving.  You weren't planning on it.  You were just standing there while he shot at you."

"He was always a bad shot, Will.  It was a well-calculated risk.  I gambled.  I won."

"You could have just as easily lost."  Some of the guilt was fast turning to righteous indignation.

Jack simply grinned, spreading his left hand open and pointing upward with his right.  "It's much easier for me to win than lose.  Somethin' about the people up there havin' an interest in me because over the years I've had this bad habit of meddling in their affairs."

Will grinned half-heartedly.  "You've a bad habit of meddling in everyone's affairs, Jack."

The pirate affected an affronted look.  "Me?  Only if there's good profit in it.  If the gods could learn not to tempt us mere mortals by involving riches, eternal life or other fun things like that in their plans, they wouldn't have as big a problem."

"Gamble a few more times like you did out there and you can explain that theory in person."

"I don't make it a habit of risking my life for no profit, William."

"There isn't any profit in it for you . . .oh . . ."  Will trailed off, a faint grin appearing on his face.  "Brian is really not going to pleased with you, you know."

"I'm going to help him take care of problems first.  Then I'm just going to relieve him of a bit of anxiety by taking any concerns for my welfare far, far, far from the results of British Navy power struggles."

"Do you think you can take Michael?  All he has to do is cut you and you're good as dead."

"Where _is_ your faith lately?  Besides, whoever said I was going to get close enough for him to cut me?"

"It's what you want."  Will turned back around to watch his children, more relaxed than when Jack had first found him but with tension still haunting his lean frame.

"What I want to do and what I'll do are two very different things.  I didn't become a good shot for no reason.  Give me your hand."

"No."  Will didn't turn to face the pirate.

"William, give me your hand."

"No.  You're not going to cut me, or yourself.  It'll be better when there's actually a fight.  I'll be expecting it.  I'll have Elizabeth and the children to think about.  Besides, you don't know what breaking the link will do to either of us."

"I'm not used to fighting with a distraction literally inside my head, and you aren't either.  We're going to have to break it sometime."  Jack's voice was a half-growled whisper as he moved closer to Will.

"Not now, Jack.  We've had this link for how long, five days?  Six?  Already I'm used to it.  It felt . . .wrong . . .earlier, when you weren't there.  I'll be more careful, you won't do anything stupid, which, by the way, is supposed to be my job, and we'll be fine.  Besides, you don't even know if sharing blood again _will_ break it, you're just assuming such, and you don't know what it'll do to us if it breaks before it's supposed to."

"And when is it supposed to break, then, if you've got everything figured out?"

"I don't know, Jack, but it's not now.  Trust me on this."

Jack was silent and still for a moment, head tilted slightly as he again contemplated the younger man.  "You're certain you can handle this?"

"I'm certain."

"All right then.  Stay out of my head unless you're specifically invited in, and I won't decide to jump you and fix this mess myself.  Mental autonomy is not a bad thing."

"You never have to worry about that, Jack.  You've enough defenses in that head of yours to keep even reality away if you want to."

"Which I never have."

"Never?"

The pirate shifted uncomfortably.  "Almost never."

"After we take out Hallson, then we'll try to break it, all right?  It could be helpful, though.  You're the reason I'm still alive.  I'm the reason your head isn't killing you at the moment.  Two are stronger than one.  Besides, I don't want to go into this any more off-balance than I already am with what's been happening."

"All right.  After the battle."

"After the battle."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Sir, it's dangerous for you to stay here.  If you had been standing a few inches further to the left—"

"I will not run away like a bloody coward!"

"It wouldn't be cowardice, it'd be common sense!"  Jenkin purposefully calmed his breathing, his hands balled into fists behind his back.  "Sir."

"If I run now, I'll never get them back in control.  _Captain_."

"If you're dead, you'll never have to worry about having them in control.  A rifle blast that ends up going less than a foot from your head is not something to be taken lightly."

"I've dealt with the perpetrator."  Hallson smiled thinly, turning his back on his distraught officer and casually pacing his office, appearing to focus more on the artwork displayed on the walls than on the matter at hand.

"Seeing one of their companions gunned down by the firing squad will hardly have earned you their loyalty.  Especially not when the companion was little more than a boy."

"A boy old enough to bear arms in service to the King's Navy and turn them on his superior is a boy more than old enough to be executed as a traitor."

"Sir, if you simply came with me on the _Defender_ for a few weeks, gave the men a chance to calm down and see that you're in the right . . ."

"They'll see that just as well with me here maintaining order."

Before Jenkin could find another argument in his quickly emptying repertoire, sounds of a scuffle and the noisy discharge of a rifle spoke for him.

Hallson stopped dead at the sound, his face quickly growing red with rage as he paced to the door and threw it open . . .only to start back in surprise with a cry of pain as the report from a second rifle heralded a slow flood of blood down his arm.

Jenkin had his commander back in the room with the door tightly shut and bolted before anything more than happen.

The Commodore's face was a pasty white as he watched his captain staunch the flow of blood.

"This is all Lanebridges' fault."

Jenkin kept quiet, knowing that the _hardly_ hovering on the tip of his tongue would not be appreciated.

"If we get rid of him, we'll stop this thing at the source."

Again Jenkin refrained from answering.  Any logic, no matter how twisted, that convinced his commander to take all actions necessary to safeguarding his life and preventing full-scale riots and mutinies would be acceptable to him.

"Once they've dealt with the . . ._problem _. . .out there, find Michael and tell him to meet us at the _Defender_ in an hours time.  Bring Markson, as well.  We're going hunting.  Best to have some decent bait and bargaining strategies."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Robert.  Come on, now is _not_ the time to sleep soundly."

"Wha—"  The blacksmith shook his head slightly and pulled away from the insistent hands that attempted to pull him to his feet.

"Robert, this is your chance to get out of here!"

"Adam . . ."

"That's right, Adam, now get _up_!"  This time the belligerent redcoat managed to drag the groggy blacksmith all the way to his feet, supporting most of the other man's weight.

"What's happening?"  Robert's balance improved quickly and he was able to bear more of his own weight as Adam slowly maneuvered them through the cell and towards the door to the guardroom.

"Something that could be both good and bad, but it gives me the chance I've been looking for to get you out of here."

No sooner had the redcoat uttered those words than the door to the guardroom burst open and another marine stood panting in the doorway.

"So you heard Captain Jenkin's orders.  Let me help you get him to the _Defender_."

Adam firmly told himself that screaming denial to the fates would not improve the situation much.  "Do you know why they want him on board?"

"Commodore's orders.  Who knows why he does anything?  Something about a bargaining tool against Lanebridges."

"I am standing here, you know."  Robert lifted one eyebrow, already sweating from the simple exercise of getting upright and moving the short distance to the door.

"If we let go, you'd drop like a sack of stones."  The other marine shifted his hold to get a better grip on the shaky blacksmith.

"Doesn't mean I'm not still standing here."

Adam smiled slightly as Robert's somewhat pouting response drew a snort of laughter from the other man.

Maybe there was a chance . . .

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Is very potent.  When they shoot the monkey, only take two hops before it fall down dead.  This worth a small fortune to any man, mi amigo."

Michael watched the tiny vial of liquid, a small part of his mind wishing the glass would shatter and cut off the man's heavily-accented bargaining.  Then, though, there would be no point to his suffering the humiliation of bargaining with the foreigner.

"Twenty gold pieces.  That's all I have, and I sincerely doubt that you will find a more accommodating buyer of your heathen brew in this rat's-nest.  Mutinous they might be at times, but they still have this unfortunate tendency of living by an unhealthy code of honor that causes them to . . .take offense to trades of this nature.  I'm sure we don't need to involve anyone from the fort in our business, though, now do you?  Twenty gold pieces.  Take it or leave it . . .friend."

The Spanish merchant considered for what, to Michael, was far too long a time before finally nodding reluctantly.

It was true . . .finding a market for a poison as strong and as unique as _curare_ in any of the civilized colonies would be difficult, in some portions illegal.  It was better to take a profit now than gamble on what-might-be.

_Curare_.  The perfect poison, able to stop a man in under half a minute.  The savages that brewed the poison coated not only their arrows, darts, spears, and sword with the poison, but their nails as well, literally clawing until they drew blood.  It was a battle tactic that disgusted and, to an extent, terrified many of the Europeans who fought them.

And now it was his.

A scratch, a half a minute, and the danger would be past.

"Michael."

The mercenary whirled around as his name was shouted, attempting not to look guilty as he pocketed the poison.  There was nothing wrong with his being at the merchant docks.

"You're to report to the _Defender_.  The Commodore says we sail as soon as possible."  Jenkin spoke with an obvious disdain that grated on the mercenary's nerves.

"What, pray tell, are we doing on the _Defender_?"  The mercenary was a master at matching tones, but the captain only sneered more.

"We're going hunting."

Michael nodded dumbly, his heart skipping a beat, following behind the navy man as he made his way back to his ship.

Hunting Lanebridges.

Hunting Sparrow.

Suddenly, _curare_ or not, Michael felt a sense of impending doom settle over him.  Meeting two captains, one young but intelligent, the other crazy, brilliant, and highly experienced, on their own turf, on open water, with no room to run should things work out differently than they were supposed to . . .

This was a recipe for disaster.


	27. Chapter 27: Shots and Shouts

AN:  Almost . . .done . . .almost . . .done . . .Okay, mates, only one more chapter to go after this horrendously long one.  I'll try to get it out ASAP, but given everything that's been happening around here, who knows when it will actually show.  For those of you looking for other fics to read in the interim, ErinRua's 'African Star' is an amazing piece of fanfiction that should be a published novel.  I know I meant to put some others in here that really like, but as I can't remember them, I'll make a list and give recs next chapter.  So, without further ado . . .the beginning of the end . . .

AN2:  Minor further ado.  Much thanks is owed by readers to Jackfan2 and Kayden, without whom I am sad to say I may have allowed this fic to die several chapters ago.  They bring inspiration and dedication.  Thanks, mates.  Now . . .the story . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 27**

"Treat them civilly.  Don't take any orders, but if they've advice about the ship, her capabilities, listen to them.  Make sure the ones in the brig stay there, but that they're treated well, given their fair share of rations, not harassed—"

Brian paced along the starboard side of the _Intrepid_, mentally ticking off points, not sparing a glance at the officer he was talking to.

Rollin increased his pace to keep himself at his captain's side.  "Sir, they're—"

The young captain stopped so quickly that the lieutenant nearly crashed into his back.  "I gave my word that they'd not come to harm."

"Aye, sir.  Just seems you're worrying more about them than about our own men."  Rollin froze and dropped his gaze as the harsh whisper escaped, opening his mouth to stammer a hasty apology.

Brian turned away from his officer for a moment, quickly regaining the composure he had been in danger of losing.  "I am doing this for our men, Lieutenant.  I won't lose them in an avoidable battle with privateers when I know that I'm about to engage in a minor civil war that I never wanted a part in to begin with.  I didn't start this; I'm just going to be the one to finish it.  Or don't you remember that?"

Rollin's head dropped further, making him look almost like a dog waiting to be kicked.  "I remember.  I'm sorry, sir.  I didn't mean to say that.  I trust your judgment."

Brian nodded slowly, grateful that it seemed truth and not simply military protocol that lay behind Rollin's words.

"When we run up the second flag, it means that we've found them.  Layer on all the canvas the _Jade_ has, cut back, and bring her around.  Hallson won't be expecting another ship.  If we can catch him between the two . . .then we stand a chance."

"Aye, Captain."

The young captain studied his officer again.  Rollin's entire body radiated a repressed excitement that transmitted itself into his movement and bearing, not quite cloaked by the uncertainty and apprehension that was also obvious.

It only took Brian a moment more before he figured out what the problem was.  "This is your first command, isn't it?"

Rollin hesitated a moment before nodding, eyes downcast again.  "Aye."

Brian tried hard not to grin, instead just smiling slightly and clapping his officer on the shoulder.  "She seems to be a good ship.  You'll do fine by her, and she'll do fine by you.  Good luck."

"Thank you."  Rollin didn't manage quite so well at controlling his grin.

Brian watched silently as Lieutenant Rollin transferred over to the _Jade_, the lines were cut between the two ships, and the two courses diverged, setting the privateer vessel far to starboard before the two courses were again parallel . . .far enough away to not be immediately spotted by anyone on the _Defender_, or to be dismissed as non-combatant if she were, but not so far away that she wouldn't be able to be use when the time came.

The trap was set, the bait would soon be spotted . . .now it was just a matter of waiting.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"I will not allow it.  Sir."

"Who are you to tell me what you will and will not allow?"  Hallson's face was a deep purple as he fumed in front of his captain.

"He is a citizen of the Crown, a man that my men know and like.  If you don't want a bayonet in the back, you will leave him be.  He's already ill."  Jenkin forced himself to talk calmly, only his gritted teeth giving away the urge he felt to physically shake sense back into his commander.

"I outrank you, Captain!  If I wanted him hung, I would see it done!"

"Hanging him would be more admissible than what you want to do.  This is a civilized ship.  I am not going to hang a man from the mast by his wrists so you can bloody well make a point!"

"You will not speak to me in that tone of voice!"

"Sir, I will do whatever is necessary to safeguard my ship.  _Whatever_ is necessary, including talking to you in this tone of voice.  Tie him to the mast, if you want.  He'll be on hand to use to negotiate, but our men won't look at him and wonder if they're fighting on the right side!"

Hallson blinked and stepped back.  "Of course they're on the right side."

"Then prove it.  Don't be inhumane for no reason."

The Commodore paced back and stared into the brig again.  "He really doesn't look so good, does he?"

"No, sir.  I doubt he'd survive long enough to be useful if you did much more than tie him to the mast."

"We're close to where the reports have been coming from."

"Aye, sir."

Hallson debated a moment more, his head tilted to the side.  "Do what you think best."

Jenkin breathed a soft sigh of relief and nodded.

"You."  He pointed to the young marine standing in the corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.  "Bring him topside.  Bind him to the mizzenmast . . .but do it gently."

"Aye, sir."

Adam waited until the two officers had headed up before breathing his own sigh of relief.

"Robert, my friend, that was much, much too close for comfort."

He could only pray that when they finally did find the Captain, the battle would be swift and decisive, with the right side coming out on top.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"She still out there?"  Ana-Maria nodded across the water.

"Aye.  Been running parallel to us just like she's supposed to.  Bit further out than Brian meant for her to go, I think, but the lookout can still spot her without a problem, and she'll be able to make out our colors."

Ana-Maria hesitated a moment, her voice a low whisper when she finally spoke, meant for her captain's ears only.  "D'ye really think we've got a chance, Jack?"

"Of course we do."  Jack wrapped his arm around Ana's waist, pulling her close.  "As much a chance as we always have."

The female pirate leaned into his embrace, letting her head tilt backwards and to the side to rest on his shoulder.  "You'll be careful, right?  Not goin' t' do anything stupid?"

"I've been informed in no uncertain terms that that's Will's job, and he's goin' to defend his right to have it."

Ana-Maria laughed softly, and Jack lowered his head, nuzzling her throat.

"You're certain you'll be all right, Jack?  No matter what happens?  Even if Will ends up hurt?"

"Elizabeth's goin' to have his back, and she won't let anything happen to him.  Came too close to losing him to let him get hurt again."

"I did lose you, Jack."  Ana-Maria's hands tightened on his arm.  "I don't want that to happen again."

"Hey, love, no talkin' like that.  You'll watch my back, I'll watch yours, and we'll be fine.  Just like always, love, remember that, just like always.  This is no different than any of a million other times.  I'm not plannin' on dying for a very long time."

"You better not be."

There was a seriousness buried under the playfulness that Jack recognized as a warning.

"Do you think Hallson will show anytime soon?"  Ana-Maria straightened slightly.

Jack shrugged and released his first mate and lover, stepping up to stand beside her.  "At least a half-dozen ships headed into Johnson have seen the _Intrepid_.  If he doesn't show soon . . .then I doubt he'll show at all."

"What'll we do then?"

Jack was saved from answering by the lookout's call of sails off the port bow.

Men responded instantly, efficiently, trimming the sails to set themselves on the best possible course to meet their foe, loading the guns, running up the second flag that would tell the _Jade_ that their quarry had arrived . . .It was a well-choreographed melee, with a young captain as the director, one that left two pirates and two civilians feeling rather useless.  It was with a feeling of relief that they watched the boarding party begin to form around the young officer, grapples being handed out, rifles loaded, bayonets attached and checked, pistols loaded . . .this was something they could help with.

"Do not fire unless fired upon."  The first command was shouted for everyone to hear, a reminder to the gunners as well that Hallson was to make the first move.  "These are fellow Naval men.  If given the chance, take a man down without killing him.  Don't be afraid to defend yourselves, though, and if fatalities occur, they will not be on your heads.  You're a good crew.  I've worked with many of you for nigh on two years."  Brian smiled slightly.  "You're the best there is.  Do what you're good at.  We'll have our victory yet."

A few scattered cheers were heard, but for the most part the men were silent, each encased in his own world as the sails in the distance grew, becoming easily discernable to those on deck, a small blur off to starboard the _Jade_ as she responded to the signal.  With any luck, nobody aboard the _Defender_ would connect the _Intrepid_ and the _Jade_ until it was too late.

The first shot from the _Defender_ landed far ahead of the _Intrepid_'s prow, doing nothing but opening the way for return fire as the two ships closed.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The _Intrepid_ was smaller than the _Defender_ . . .much smaller, at least so far as Will could tell.  The first volley from the _Intrepid_ caused minor damage, a broken rail, a hole in the hull well above the water line, but none of the rigging was hit badly enough to even slow the larger ship down.

He wasn't able to determine exactly how much damage the return volley had caused, too busy ducking down as splinters flew and men screamed in pain.

Minor damage to the ships . . .major damage to the crewmen caught in the middle.

Then the _Intrepid_ was past the larger ship, swinging back around, her smaller size giving her a superior maneuverability that they were counting on.

"Will."

The blacksmith spun around as Jack's voice cut cleanly through the shouts as the guns were reloaded, some with chain shot, and men speculated on how long before the _Jade_ joined the fray.

"Will, go below."

"What?"

"Take Elizabeth and go below.  She'll follow you."  The pirate captain kept half his attention on the _Defender_ as the _Intrepid_ swung round to sweep across her other side.

"It's no safer down there!  Cannonballs can go through hulls, Jack."

"You'll be able to keep an eye on the children, and there's less splinters, less chance of a mast or sail or somesuch fallin'.  You're out of your element here, Will.  You're a hand-to-hand combat fighter.  You can't help with this."

"Once we board, I can help, and I plan on it.  You're not the only one who's hunting someone.  My children should know how to follow orders by now, anyway.  They're being more useful than we are, at the moment."

Jack seemed to consider arguing again, then thought better of it.  "Just . . .be careful, lad.  Watch out for yourself."

"I will, Jack.  You don't have to worry about me.  I can take care of myself."

Jack smiled slightly, and Will shrugged, understanding the message.  Just because he didn't _have_ to worry wouldn't mean that the pirate could stop himself from worrying.

The two ships again swept past each other, slower than before.  Water erupted as missed shots careened into the ocean; splinters flew from connections; and still, by some miracle, the _Intrepid_'s rigging held firm, none of the masts or sails damaged.

Unfortunately, the same could be said for their opponent.

It was as the crew of the _Intrepid_ was once again arranging the sails to catch the wind and bring them back around to strafe the larger vessel for a third time, the ship noticeably more sluggish, that the privateer vessel made its debut in the battle.

The smaller ship was nearly flying in comparison to the two naval vessels.  Her first two shots were wide, but a third brought down the _Defender_'s foremast, to loud cheers from both the crew of the _Jade _and of the _Intrepid_.

As the _Jade_ finished her first pass, the _Intrepid_ moved in for her third.

A sharp crack brought all eyes up to the _Defender_'s mainmast as a cannonball glanced off the side.  Slowly, almost as though debating whether or not it wished to fall, the mast leaned to starboard, towards the _Jade_, which hastily broke off it's second pass as the mast leaned further, further . . .and collapsed completely.

This time the cheers could be heard from the _Intrepid_, slowing on the starboard side of the large ship, to the _Jade_, moving back in on the port side.

Their opponent was crippled.

Now, all they had to do was subdue the crew.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Where the hell did that second boat come from?"  Jenkin's voice was icily calm and cool as he surveyed the damages to his ship.

They were dead in the water.  It was only a matter of minutes before the crews of the other two ships pressed their advantage and boarded.  How many men would they be facing?  Were they going for blood, or just for victory?

_This is Brian Lanebridges' command you're talking about.  He never was a killer._

Then again, he'd never been pushed near as far as he had been these last few days . . .none of them had.

"Captain."  Hallson's voice was calm, emotionless, a far cry from the strident accusations that Jenkin had expected.  "How bad do you think this is?"

"Bad."

"If we go down, we'll go down fighting."

Jenkin didn't comment, simply watched as his men gathered weapons and prepared to repel boarders.

Britsh versus British . . .

This was not a fight he had ever wanted to be a part of.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will watched the first wave of boarders cross from the _Intrepid_ to the _Defender_, just barely able to make out similar activities on the opposite side of the ship as the marines from the _Jade_ followed suit.

"Do you want to do this?"  Elizabeth's hand was in his as they watched the ensuing skirmish, telling friend from foe becoming a difficult task.

"I have to."

"Where are Jack and Ana-Maria?"

Will tilted his head slightly.  "They're already over there.  Jack's . . .hunting."  There was not other word to describe the single-minded fixation with which the pirate was searching for his prey.  Anyone else with a weapon was simply a hindrance, an annoyance that needed to be dealt with quickly.

"Whenever you're ready."

Will considered telling Elizabeth once more to stay with the children, to do anything but follow him, but he knew she wouldn't listen.  Backing down had never been something that Elizabeth was good at.  She was prepared for this, dressed in trousers and a loose white shirt, a pistol and a sword strapped to her side.  He had taught her how to use her sword himself . . .knew she was a decent shot . . .and she'd be by his side.  They'd be safe.

"Let's go."

Elizabeth met his half-hearted grin with a smile of her own as she squeezed his hand once before releasing it.

Swinging over to the _Defender_ was an entirely new experience, the brief dizzying moment as deck became water became deck below his feet, the jolt as he found his footing on the crippled ship, the disorientation as pistols and rifles exploded and swords clashed . . .

"That was rather fun."

Elizabeth laughed and nodded as she emptied her pistol into one of the redcoat's upper arms, causing him to drop his rifle.

Will emptied his own weapon before unsheathing his sword, bringing it up to parry a swing from one of Jenkin's lieutenants.  The man froze as his eyes met Will's, and Will was fairly certain that the other man had even stopped breathing.

"You . . .you're supposed to be dead!"

Will shrugged.  "I was, but now I'm not."

The officer backed away slowly before dropping limply to the deck as the hilt of Elizabeth's sword hilt came down on the back of his head.

"Convincing you're opponent you're either a ghost or one of the undead isn't exactly above-board when it comes to the rules of engagement, Will."

This time Will's grin was wide and completely authentic.  "Pirate?"

Elizabeth laughed, and the two of them continued to make their slow way across the deck, Will keeping one eye open for Hallson the entire time, listening quietly over the link to ensure that Jack was still fine.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"There!"

"Where?"  Ana-Maria hollered over her shoulder as she dodged a bayonet thrust and used the hilt of her sword to smash the redcoat's nose in.

"Watch your back."  With that Jack was gone, ignoring the curses that Ana-Maria sent his way, dodging amidst individual fights, instinctively hunching his shoulders and ducking as pistol and rifle reports were heard, the haze over and around the ship from the cannons and the handguns seeming to thicken with each passing minute.

The man he had spotted wasn't the mercenary he had been searching for since he boarded the ship, but he would do for starters.

Jack was almost close enough to touch him when the redcoat spun around, bringing his rifle up in an automatic defense before blanching and stepping back.

The pirate captain almost extended a hand, half-expecting the younger man to pass out on the spot.

"I remember you."

The half-growled words didn't do much for the young man's complexion, but he did finally bring his rifle up again, attempting to bludgeon the pirate with the butt.

It only took Jack a moment to disarm the much less experienced marine and back him against the rail, his sword at the redcoat's throat, not quite drawing blood.

"I should kill you."

"I swear I didn't have anything to do with what happened!  I was just following orders!  All I did was watch!"

"Watch what?"  The sword bit slightly deeper, bringing a bead of blood to the surface.  Jack made certain to keep an eye on the surrounding scuffles, not wanting to be surprised by anyone thinking to help their comrade . . .if anyone was still aware which men were comrades and which weren't.  Brian really should've tied ribbons or something on his men so he could tell which marines were friends and which foes.

"You don't know?"

"If I knew, would I be asking you?"

The redcoat swallowed slowly.  "I thought . . .I thought she would've told you . . ."

"What.  Did.  He.  Do."

"He cut her . . .a cross.  He had dipped the knife in something . . .I'm not sure what . . .but she started crying out, tossing around, trying to get away . . .he had her swallow something, too . . .and he kept tellin' her that . . .terrible things . . .were happening to you, and to Turner, and to the boy we had . . .and I think . . .I think whatever he used to drug her with, she could see what he was saying in her head . . .but she still wouldn't give the Captain away . . .so he branded her . . .and kept talking to her 'til she gave him up . . .and I swear we didn't do anything but watch!"

Jack studied the marine carefully.  "Michael never touched her in any other way?"

"What do you—No!  God, no.  We're not savages."  For a moment Jack thought the redcoat was going to start struggling again, but a bit more pressure kept him from doing much more than panting in irate indignation.

"That's good for you, son.  That's very good for you.  Now, things'll go even better for you if you can tell me where Michael is."

"I don't know.  He was with the Commodore, aft, with that blacksmith . . ."

"Thank you."

Jack grabbed a fistful of the redcoats shirt and hauled him upright, pulling his sword away and smashing the hilt down on the back of the redcoat's head.  He left the younger man sprawled awkwardly on the deck.

He had bigger prey to find.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Damn it."

"Sir?  What's wrong?"  Jordan spoke hesitantly as his captain paced the deck.

"This.  This entire thing is wrong.  This needs to end.  It needs to end now."

Brian watched as more men fell on the _Defender_, not able to tell for certain if they were his men or not.  There was little blood, in comparison to when they took a pirate ship or a privateer's vessel, but there was still more than there should have been.

"Are you capable of watching the ship?"

"What?"  Jordan looked as though he had been asked to pet a cobra.

"The _Intrepid_.  I know you're qualified, but do you feel capable, in this situation, of being commander of her?"

"Aye, sir."  Jordan recovered quickly from the shock, nodding smartly.  "May I enquire as to what you're planning on doing?"

"I'm going to have a face-to-face discussion with Jenkin.  He won't be able to handle this much better than I can . . .if we both order our men to stand down . . ."

Jordan nodded again.  "I can handle command until you get back.  Be careful, sir.  The _Intrepid_ needs you.  Your crew needs you."

Brian smiled slightly and nodded.  Win or lose, it was unlikely he would ever be commanding a vessel for the British Royal Navy again.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jenkin stood panting for a moment as his opponent collapsed, senseless, to the deck.  He had a broken arm, a gash to his ribs that would more than likely need to be stitched, and his head would be killing him for some time to come, but the boy was still alive.  The captain prayed fervently that the same could be said for all the other marines and sailors that had fallen.

"Captain Jenkin!"

Muttering a curse under his breath, Jenkin turned towards the summons, automatically raising his sword to a defensive position.  More than one person had already tried to take him out by calling his rank and name first, hoping to catch him off-guard.

"Brian."  The defensive posture turned quickly to an offensive one as the younger captain nodded, his own sword unsheathed.

"We need to end this, Andrew."  Brian kept his position strictly defensive, maneuvering slowly around the captain of the _Defender_.

Jenkin matched his slow circling and nodded.  "Tell your men to step down.  It'll be over then."

"You know as well as I do that that isn't acceptable.  How has the Commodore been acting lately?  Does he seem like someone fit to command?"

Jenkin shook his head slowly.  "That isn't for you and me to decide, Brian.  You know that.  What you've done is treasonous."

"I will take responsibility for my actions, and for any actions that occurred under my command, but I will not turn my men over to be judged by a madman."

"Madman or not, he's your commander!"  Jenkin punctuated his statement with a short offensive rush that Brian easily countered.

Once again the two men turned to circling each other, set apart from the rest of the battle, neither side willing to interfere in their leader's battle.

"You just admitted yourself that he's a madman.  Take him into custody.  Contact proper channels, get him out of the position of commander!  Blind loyalty does no one any good!"  This time it was Brian who quickly switched from a defensive position to an offensive one, though his rush was more suited to a sparring match than to a life-or-death battle.  "Our men are killing each other.  Brothers-in-arms turned against each other.  This is _wrong_, Andrew, so wrong it sets my teeth on edge, and I can't stand to watch it."

Jenkin spread his arms briefly in a gesture of frustration.  "Do you think I can?  Do you think I'm _enjoying_ standing here, checking each time to ensure that the man I'm trying to take down isn't one of my own?  Do you think I don't cringe every time I look at this mess?"

"Then let's end it.  Now.  Here.  No more blood spilled, unless they decide to spill mine."  Brian lowered his cutlass until the point was towards the deck and slowly extended one hand, an offer of peace . . .

The report of the pistol didn't register as anything untoward, just another shot from someone who had managed to reload.

The ball embedding itself in the wood just to the side of his right arm did register with Captain Andrew Jenkin, as did the look of shock on the younger captain's face . . .shock that became disbelief that became pain that hid just the barest edge of fear as the young man lifted a hand to cover the bloodstain that was slowly spreading across his abdomen.

"Oh, Lord, Brian."

The younger officer was shaking slightly as he stared at the blood on his hand.  "Andrew . . .end this . . ."

"_Brian!_"  Jenkin wasn't quite fast enough to catch the young man as he collapsed to the deck, lying utterly, frighteningly still.  Blood was already beginning to pool underneath him . . .too much blood, too fast . . .Andrew was dimly aware of a cessation of battle sounds around him, the clash of swords replaced by a growing hush of whispers and exclamations.

"He made a good officer.  It's quite the pity."

Jenkin lifted his head slowly, staring hard at his commanding officer.  "You shot him in the back.  He wasn't fighting you and you shot him in the back.  You almost shot me.  How bloody damned close to him were you?  You can't even kill a man decently!"

"Captain, this is not the time for hysterics!  We've taken out their commander.  Press the advantage."

Slowly, his own limbs shaking from sheer rage and a deep exhaustion, Captain Andrew Jenkin hauled himself to his feet.  "What you have done is beyond what I am willing to overlook.  You shot a man in the back who was only trying to end this with as little blood spilled as possible.  You have ignored proper procedure, endangered the lives of British civilians without just cause and for no apparent reason . . .No.  This ends now."

"What do you mean, this ends now?  This isn't over until I say—"

"This is Captain Jenkin speaking!  All men, repeat, _all men_ are to lay down your weapons!  This is a cessation of hostilities, negotiated between myself and Captain Lanebridges.  Return to your own ships if you are able.  If you aren't, you'll be given proper medical attention here."

The shouts carried well, and those who didn't hear or didn't understand were quickly informed of what was happening.  Slowly, uncertainly, men lowered their weapons, eyed their opponents warily.

"You can't do this, Jenkin!"  Hallson's sword was barely out of its scabbard before a trio of marines had stepped between him and their captain . . ._Captains_, Jenkin corrected himself softly, recognizing one of them as Hardel, the redcoat who had served with Brian Lanebridges for five years now.

"I can and I will.  Don't make this harder than it has to be, Frederick.  We're going back to port.  There'll be a proper hearing.  You can plead your case there."

Hallson's answer was to turn run toward the stern.

"Catch him and throw him in the brig."

  
Two of the marines nodded and sprinted after their former commodore.  Hardel stayed and watched as Jenkin knelt down again to gently check over the fallen man.

"Sir . . .?  Is the Captain . . ."

"He's alive."  Jenkin closed his eyes and winced as the heavy sigh of relief reached his ears.  "It's not good, son.  He's losing a lot of blood . . .a lot of blood."  Jenkin shrugged out of his blue officer's coat and folded it tightly before setting it on the large exit hole in the younger captain's stomach and applying pressure, earning a small moan of pain from his patient.  "Through and through, so who knows what it did to his insides . . ."

A sharp cry from aft caused Jenkin to jerk his head up in alarm.

_Tie him to the mast, if you want.  He'll be on hand to use to negotiate . . ._

Jenkin was on his feet in an instant.  Of all the stupid . . .even Hallson wouldn't . . .

Hell, yes, he would.

"Stay with him.  Keep pressure on that."

Hardel was down on the deck in an instant, doing all that was possible to keep the weak thread to life whole.

"I've still got a madman to deal with."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Things were not going well . . .not going well at all.  Michael carefully inched his way through the soldiers and sailors, hoping not be noticed as men decided whether or not they would believe that a truce had been called.

He was completely unprepared for a hand on his shoulder, and even more unprepared for facing the man that it belonged to.

"Boo."  The pirate captain smiled mirthlessly as the mercenary jerked free, rushing backwards as fast as he could.  "I've been looking for you."

"Didn't you hear the man, Sparrow?  Everyone's to lay down their weapons.  Peace."

"You might not have noticed this, but I don't happen to be a member of the Royal Navy, and I sure as hell am not letting you get away because one of them decides its time to stop playing before I'm through."  There was a dangerous light to Sparrow's eyes, a cold, vicious light that warned the mercenary that he wouldn't be walking away this time.  Blood stained the upper part of the pirate's left sleeve, but Jack Sparrow seemed blissfully unaware that he had been injured at all.

Michael turned and sprinted below decks, Jack barely a step behind him.  The mercenary didn't stop until he had to, stumbling to a halt in the crew's quarters.

"Now, _this_ isn't familiar at all, is it?"  Jack's voice was a dangerous purr as he stalked Michael.  "If I remember correctly, it was somewhere like this that you left me to die, wasn't it?  My turn."

Michael had barely cleared his sword from its scabbard in time to parry the first swing, and the sheer power behind the blow sent splinters of pain racing up his arms.  He had hoped that the pirate's injury, minor though it apparently was, would give him some kind of edge.

That hope had already died.

The mercenary struggled hard to focus, reminding himself firmly that he had the advantage, that all he had to do was cut Sparrow, just nick him, and let the poison do the work.

When putting all your strength into blocking blows that were meant to decapitate, disembowel, or otherwise ensure your demise, it was a hard thing to concentrate on forming an offensive plan.

Michael cried out in pain as Jack's sword slipped beneath his guard and danced across his ribs, leaving a trail far too similar to the one that he had given Turner for the mercenary's liking.

"You're a ruddy coward, Michael.  You can't take what you dish out, and you can't even dish it out without the help of your precious poisons."

Again Jack's sword slipped through his guard, burning a trail of fire across his left arm before flicking back and carving the other half of the cross into his flesh.

"You should have left me and mine alone, traitor."

A vicious downward blow caused Michael's fingers to loosen their hold on his sword, and it slid to the deck.  The mercenary dropped quickly after it, gasping in terror as his own hand missed the hilt and instead landed on the blade, the well-honed metal slicing easily into his flesh.

Jack grinned slightly and backed away a step.  "What's the matter?  Still fighting with a poisoned blade?  How long do you have?  A half hour?  Why don't we see how long _you_ can fight with death running through your veins, aye?"

Michael couldn't answer, even if he wanted to.  He could feel where the _curare_ had already worked, the muscles completely frozen, unresponsive.  He couldn't draw breath to speak . . .couldn't draw breath to live . . .couldn't live . . .God, this wasn't how it was supposed to end . . .

Jack scowled blackly at the corpse in front of him.  "Curare.  Where in bloody hell did you get curare?  Wherever it was, you bloody traitor, you got taken in.  Your monkey must've jumped eight or nine times before it died."

The corpse didn't answer . . .not that he had expected it would.  Jack sighed and turned away from the body, stumbling as he tried to make his way back toward the stairs and the deck.  Shaking his head, he placed one hand over the gash in his left shoulder, ensuring that it wasn't any deeper than he had thought.

It had been a stupid mistake that got him that, letting his attention focus on Michael before he had dealt with the trouble right in front of him.

It had been stupid to engage the mercenary in a clash of swords.  Will was going to be furious with him . . .not that Will wouldn't have wasted his shot if he thought Elizabeth was in trouble . . .

Jack frowned and shook his head again.  God, he was exhausted . . .

Another two steps were all he managed before collapsing to his knees.

_Escape based on the flimsy oath of a pirate . . ._

An oath fulfilled . . .

Jack took a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to clear his head and lessen the pounding of his heart.

When he opened them, he could see the dim outline of a gray mist and dancing lights over the solid planes of the _Defender_'s deck . . .

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Frederick, you're just making this harder on yourself.  This is not going to impress whatever judge we end up with."  Jenkin tried hard not to let his irritation and anger show.

Hallson had his sword at Robert's neck, and already a small cut dripped blood down onto the blacksmith's chest.

"You're all traitors!  Every single one of you!  I order you to pick up your weapons and to defend this ship!"

Jenkin froze as he finally caught Hallson's eye.

Whatever sanity the man had possessed before had fled completely.

A different tactic was definitely needed here.  "Sir, the ship is safe.  We already did what you asked, remember?  All of these men are Royal Navy men . . .they're all supposed to be here.  Everything is in good order, sir."

"Then why wasn't anyone obeying my orders?  You should court-martial those men there, Captain, chasing their superior officer with intent to detain him."

_At least they didn't shoot you in the back, you bloody monster_.  "Sir, you need to step away from the prisoner so we can ensure that he's securely locked away and that any injuries you've sustained are taken care of."

Hallson smiled, a sight that sent a chill through Jenkin's blood.

"Didn't you hear, Captain?  We're not taking prisoners today."

Jenkin turned away as Hallson's sword arm tensed.

"Hallson."

"Will?"  Robert's voice, hoarse and strained though it was, managed to convey both the heights of joy and the depths of doubt.

"You're dead.  You're supposed to be _dead_!"  Hallson stood frozen, only his eyes moving as they roved over the younger blacksmith's entire body.

"Maybe I am dead.  Maybe I'm here to see that you end up dead, too."  Will's stride was purposeful, steady, slow, his sword dripping someone's crimson blood, his face hard and impassive, eyes fixed and steady, and for a moment Jenkin could indeed believe that he was Death in human form.

"No."  Hallson pulled his sword away from the helpless blacksmith, brandishing it instead at the approaching personification of death.  "No!"

"Yes."  Will seemed to savor the word, drawing it out into a long whisper.

Before Will was close enough to draw blood, two rifle shots split the silence on deck, and Hallson collapsed to the ground, one ball in his head and another in his heart.

Will stood with hands clenched for a moment before turning away.

Adam Crallon was already working at undoing the ties that held Robert to the mizzenmast as Jenkin gave orders for the disposal of Hallson's body before making his way back to where he had left Brian Lanebridges, hoping against hope that the young man was still clinging to life.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"He should have been mine."

"It's all right, Will."  Elizabeth rubbed her hands over her husband's shoulders.  "Robert's safe, the children are safe, you're safe, I'm safe . . .everything's all right.  It doesn't matter _who_ killed him, just so long as he's dead."

Will nodded slightly.  "I know you're right . . .but I still wanted him."

"I don't think you would have enjoyed it if you did get him."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Will's mouth.  "No, probably not.  You're right.  We won, he's dead . . .that's what matters."

"Exactly.  That's what matters."

Will wrapped his arms around his wife, bringing her head in for a quick kiss.  Maybe standing on deck in the aftermath of a minor civil war, with men being slowly moved to their proper crews, the dead identified and the wounded tended, wasn't exactly the proper time . . .but it would do.

Elizabeth remained quiet in his arms for a few moments afterward.  "Jack and Ana-Maria?"

Will shrugged.  "I don't know.  Jack's had all his defenses in place since we boarded . . .I tend to heed his mental 'no trespassing' signs.  Things can get rather ugly otherwise."

"Can't you just make sure he's all right?  I would have expected him to be right by your side when you confronted Hallson . . ."

"He had found Michael.  I felt that . . .there wasn't any way I couldn't."  Will closed his eyes and gently nudged the link, searching for a reaction from the pirate.  Frowning when none was forthcoming, he tried again harder . . .and opened his eyes wide, gasping in shock and fear before breaking away from Elizabeth and rushing down below deck, no longer quite so certain that everything was all right.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack struggled to remain on his knees, swaying violently, using his cutlass that he had embedded in the floor to help him keep his balance.  Some part of his mind knew that falling any further than his knees would be much, much too far to get back up from.

_Escape based on the flimsy oath of a pirate . . ._

Bootstrap had said he was a free man, hadn't he?  Not bound to anything?

_You can't die.  You've an oath to complete._

He'd done it.

Finished it.

Ended it.

Won.

His ship was at the bottom of the sea, though, his crew all dead, and Ana-Maria would be just about ready to kill him now for running off on her like he had.

Jack reached out unsteadily to grab at one of the dancing points of light, actually partially surprised to find his hand went straight through the mist and the light without disturbing either.

That was interesting . . .

_Jack!  Jack, damn you, what in hell were you thinking, what are you doing, you bloody stubborn obstinate annoying gods-cursed infuriating pirate you're scaring me half to death don't do this Jack don't do this you won you won I can see that you won Jack get up you stubborn bloody man get up don't let them win get up get up get_—

Jack shook his head, drowning out the voice, slamming his defenses back into place.  This was his decision, his problem, not something that Will was supposed to interfere with.

The pirate winced in pain and brought both hands up to his head as Will simply pushed his way past the barriers, too worried and upset to bother with such niceties as getting permission.

_Jack, this is not how you are meant to die.  If you were going to die like this, it would have been on the _Pearl_.  We won, Jack.  We won.  You _are_ free.  Don't trick yourself out of this.  If you're scared, or hurting, lean on me, I'm here, I'll help you.  I've lost my whole world before, too.  You build another one.  Ana-Maria will be absolutely furious with you if you quit now._

Quit?  Quitting was not something that Captain Jack Sparrow did . . .

_You won.  We won.  Get on your feet, Captain.  Get on your feet right now._

Since when had he been able to make out words over the link?

_Since you were doing something so stupid that I needed to go plow my way this far into your mind, stubborn bloody pirate._

Will was becoming far too much like his father for Jack's liking.

Jack slowly stood, the gray mist and dancing, haunting lights receding as he did so.  Walking was still difficult, the first step sending him reeling sideways.  A strong hand on his shoulder kept him from hitting the ground, and before he could recover he found himself enveloped in a tight hug.

He had just acclimated himself to breathing through Will's tight grip when Elizabeth added her own arms to the mix.

"I take it we won?"

Will arched an eyebrow and stepped away.  "We won.  Hallson's dead, the battle's over."

"Where's Ana-Maria?"  Jack used one hand to shoo Elizabeth's fingers away as she careful pried at the bloody material covering his upper left arm.

"Right here, you bloody fool.  Just took me a bit longer to follow Will's mad dash down below."  She eyed his injured shoulder as well.  "I thought we were going to avoid doing stupid things?"

Jack just grinned and shrugged.  "I couldn't help it.  Spent too much time with William here.  It's not bad, anyway.  Won't even need to be stitched.  Elizabeth's got a nick of her own, but I don't see you berating her."  He gestured to a small bloody patch surrounding a ragged tear in Elizabeth's trousers.

Ana-Maria shrugged.  "I figured Will already beat me to it."

"Only if dear William wants me mentioning the blow to the head that had him unable to tell down from up and left from right for nearly a full minute is he going to do that."

"I thought we'd worked on this ducking problem, Will."  Jack admonished as he led the way slowly back to the main deck.

"When there's four of them to one of me . . .if Elizabeth hadn't been there, I'd be dead.  Besides, it's Brian who has a problem with ducking, remember?"  Will fell quickly silent, and Jack didn't need to turn around to see the guilt on his face.

"How bad?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly.  "Bad."

"Damn it.  The lad's a good captain, a good man.  What happened?"  Jack stopped at the edge of the main deck, allowing his companions to come up but not moving far enough forward to interfere with the damage control and assessment, both for the ship and for the wounded, that was being tended to.

"Hallson shot him in the back when he was trying to negotiate a cease-fire.  Francis is already working on him, but he says not to expect anything."  Elizabeth bit her lip, praying silently, yet again, for the young man's life.

"Will Turner."

Will turned abruptly at the sound of his name, his hand instantly going for his sword before he relaxed.

"My name is George Hardel.  I was just over on the _Intrepid_, and that last barrage from the _Defender_ before we boarded, it tore her up pretty bad . . .two of the balls went through the gun decks.  We're still pulling people out of there."

Will and Elizabeth both froze, barely able to put their fear into words.  "Our children . . ."

"I'm sorry.  They haven't been recovered yet."


	28. Chapter 28: Rescue

AN:  I lied.  This isn't the last chapter.  This is the second to last chapter.  I'm currently working on the last chapter and hope to post it within four days (you'll probably be able to figure out most of what shall happen based on this one, but ah well).  This would've been posted earlier save for the problems that ff.net has had.  Hope you enjoy.

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 28**

The crew of the _Intrepid_ worked quickly and efficiently, assessing damages and doing what they could to repair them, but there was a marked difference in their mood.  Even before the battle with the _Defender_, there had been a sense of camaraderie, a feeling of unity that had shown itself in brief conversations and comments, in quick grins and quiet laughs.

Silence was now the rule of the day.  There were no songs, no laughs, no victory cheers, no friendly ribbing about who had and had not done what in the battle.  Officers found that no yelling was needed to make orders carry the length of the ship.

Their commander was fighting what was in all likelihood a losing battle for his life.  Their own futures were uncertain at best.  It was a heavy pall that hung over the damaged ship as wounded were tended and the gun deck cleared of debris as survivors were gently moved to a safer location.

"Oh, God . . ."  Will more breathed than spoke the epithet . . .or was it a prayer? . . .as he watched one of the marines carry a sailor up from below, a splinter that was easily the size of Will's fist embedded in the man's chest.

Only Jack's hands planted firmly on his shoulder kept him from bolting down below decks.  Ana-Maria kept Elizabeth in a similar hold, though the dazed expression on his wife's face caused the blacksmith to doubt exactly how much of what had happened was registering with her.

"Let them do their job, Will."

"But Jack and Ana . . .my _children_ . . ."

"You can't do anything for them."

"Jack, _please_ . . .you don't understand . . .I _have_ to . . .they're my _children_ . . ."  Will suddenly found himself unable to draw a full breath, panting slightly as he watched the efficient work of the rescue team.  His children were down there somewhere, in need of his help . . .

"Will . . .William!"  The pirate captain sighed in relief as Will's eyes finally snapped back to his.  "Will, you can't do anything to help."

Jack frowned as Will simply stared at him, misery, pain and fear starkly evident in his eyes.

"You don't understand . . ."

"Then show me."  The pirate captain braced his feet and half-closed his eyes before once again dropping the carefully placed defenses in his mind.

Even prepared, Jack still found himself dropping his hands from Will's shoulder and using them to cradle his head, just barely resisting the urge to scream as the onslaught of thoughts and emotions swept through his mind.  Guilt, anger, grief, fear, pain, sorrow . . .

The pirate captain wavered and nearly fell as Will slammed his own mental barriers shut with a snarl that was belied by the concerned hand he placed on Jack's arm.

"Mental autonomy is not a bad thing, remember?  That works both ways, Jack."

"You're the one who said I didn't understand . . ."  Jack rubbed at his forehead, still dazed by everything he had seen and sensed in Will's mind.

"What are you two doing?"  Ana-Maria's low hiss was filled with suspicion and exasperation that nearly cloaked the touch of fear also present.

"Deciding I'm never going to be a father.  It's far too much stress."

Both Will and Elizabeth nearly smiled . . .not quite, but nearly, and Elizabeth finally made her way into her husband's arms where she should have been, at least in Jack's opinion, from the first.

The quartet waited with at least pseudo-patience as the rescue and damage control work continued.

Finally, after what seemed like forever but could barely have been a quarter-hour, the cry they had been waiting for sounded.

"We've found them!  Sir, we've found them!"

The hoarse cry was followed by a quick shuffle of men and the sound of quiet sobbing as a small form was quickly passed up onto the deck and into Will and Elizabeth's waiting arms.

"Ana . . .oh, Ana, thank God . . ."

Jack and Ana-Maria hung back as the two parents embraced their daughter, both of them quickly checking her over for injuries.  A gash on her temple had caused blood to congeal in her hair and trickle down her face, and small splinters of wood were caught in her clothing, a few obvious in the skin of her lower arms and hands.

"Mama . . .papa . . ."  The sobbing intensified as Ana grabbed both her parents in a tight hug.  "Jack . . .where's Jack . . .I can't feel him, Mama, he was trying to protect me and now I can't . . .I can't . . ."

Whatever else the girl was going to say was drowned out by harsher sobs and another cry from the marines working rescue detail.

"We've got him!"

Once again the hoarse cry heralded the arrival of a small form . . .but this time there were no sobs emanating from it.  The small body was utterly still as it was passed up into the sunlight.  Blood stained the trousers and loose white shirt, splinters and other dust turning the dark brown hair a chalky gray and giving him the complexion of a corpse.

_No . . .no, not a corpse, not a corpse_ . . .

The marine gently laid the boy flat on the deck, leaning down to check him over before shaking his head.

"He's not breathing . . ."

Something inside Will seemed to die as those simple words threatened to bring his world crashing down.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

_He's not breathing . . .He's not breathing . . ._

Jack turned away, his hands clenching into fists as the red-coated marine shook his head and stood.  Will didn't move from his spot, standing in front of his wife and daughter, staring unblinkingly at his child.  Only numbness made its way across the link now, a hurt too deep to feel instantly, one that would build slowly, would fester and burn . . .

It wasn't fair.  He was just a child, a stubborn, strong-willed, good-hearted child.

Life was never fair, though.  He should be used to it by now.

"Jack . . .?"  All eyes turned as if of their own volition to the young girl standing hesitantly over her twin, reaching out as if to touch him only to pull back again, finally settling on brushing a stray lock of hair off his too-still face.  "Jack . . .wake up . . .please . . ."

_"Jack!  Jack, not now, not after hangin' on for so long!  Jack, stay with me!"  She was trying to breathe for him again . . ._

_She was trying to breathe for him again . . .___

He had only tried the air-sharing with Ana-Maria before, first in play and lately in deadly earnest.  Would it work with a child . . .?

Jack pushed his way through the frozen tableau of sailors and marines to kneel beside the boy.  Will followed a second later, a faint glimmer of hope making itself known over the link, a glimmer which the pirate captain pointedly ignored, not wanting to raise hopes only to dash them.

It took a few precious seconds to find the weak pulse of life in the boy's neck, a pulse that was slowing and growing more erratic with every second.

Once he had that reassurance, Jack leaned down and sealed his lips firmly over his god-nephew's mouth before exhaling slowly, careful not to breathe too quickly or to force too much into the lad's chest.  The boy was younger, smaller, not used to diving underwater and staying there or to running for his life . . .

Rough hands grabbed him by one shoulder and his hair, breaking his concentration.

"Get off him, you bloody—"

Before Jack could respond to the threat himself, Will's fist had silenced the marine.

"Let him work.  Let him try."  Will's voice nearly broke over the last phrase, and Jack doubted anyone really understood what he was getting at, but as the father, and as a known fighter . . .the pirate captain doubted there would be any more interruptions.

A quick check at the boy's neck showed that his pulse was still strong.

"C'mon, son, breathe for me.  I can't keep doin' this for you."  Contrary to his words, Jack leaned in and again breathed fresh air into the child's lungs.

Still no response.

"Jack . . .Jack, please . . ."  Ana was crying openly as she clasped her twin's hand tightly.

The pirate captain fought the urge to turn away, becoming more and more certain that it was a hopeless fight he was facing.  One more time, one more try . . .

"Ana . . ."  Elizabeth knelt beside her daughter, pulling her close, trying to hush her daughter's sobs.  It was weary eyes that met Jack's as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry . . ."

A harsh cough interrupted the apology or condolences.  Jack backed up swiftly to prevent himself from being caught in the middle of the family affection as Will dropped down to touch his son on one side and Elizabeth and Ana crowded closer on the other.

"Jack?  Jack, wake up!"  The tears still stood on Ana's cheeks, but it was a bright smile that crossed her face as her twin finally followed her command.

"Ana?  Mama?  Papa?"  The boy's voice was scratchy, barely above a whisper, and quickly degenerated into more coughing.

"Right here, Jack.  We're right here."  Will ran a hand slowly down his son's face.

The boy nodded and smiled before closing his eyes again and passing out, his breathing still steady if a bit harsh.

"Jack."  The pirate captain raised one eyebrow in silent query as Will gathered his son into his arms and stood.  "Thank you."

Jack smiled and shrugged, wrapping his arms around Ana-Maria.

It was only after Will and his family had moved away to find somewhere safe to lay their son that Jack spared a glance at the crewman around him . . .sailors and marines that viewed him with looks ranging from awe to suspicion.

Now might be a good time to start planning how he was getting out of here . . .

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Dusk had stolen quietly over the sea, a dusk that was quickly deepening to full night as Jack made his way over to the _Defender_.

The same repair work that had occupied the crew of the _Intrepid_ all day had also occupied the crew of the larger ship.  As the only ship not seriously damaged, the _Jade_ had swept out a wide protective circle around her sisters all afternoon before finally dropping anchor off the port side of the _Defender_, her crew eager for news of their captain.

From the silence and the morose expressions on the faces of the men aboard the _Defender_, Jack sincerely doubted that the news had been good.

It didn't take the pirate captain long to find the doctor.  Francis was leaning against the rail, his eyes closed but his head tilted back as though he were gazing at the darkening sky, watching the constellations slowly form.  Blood stained his clothing, especially the cuffs of his sleeves, but he had obviously taken time to wash his hands.

"Did someone take care of your shoulder?"

Jack reared back slightly, unnerved both by being identified by a man who hadn't even looked at him and by the doctor's knowledge of his injury.

"Ana-Maria took care of it.  It wasn't bad at all."

"Good."  Francis finally moved, straightening slowly and turning weary eyes toward Jack.  "Then I suppose you're here to ask about the Captain."

Jack nodded.  "I'd like to see him."

"He isn't conscious."  Francis locked his gaze onto Jack's, and the pirate got the distinct impression that the man was searching for something . . .though what the doctor was searching for was beyond Jack.  "I don't expect him to regain consciousness."

"I'd still like to see him."

The doctor continued as though he hadn't heard.  "It took me too long to stop the bleeding, and Lord only knows what damage has been done inside that I can't see and can't fix.  He's already feverish.  There's nothing more I can do to help him."

"I'd like to see the lad."  Jack spoke softly, only his hands moving, keeping a respectful distance between himself and the other man.

Francis finally dropped his gaze, wrapping both arms around his chest as though he were cold.  When he spoke, his voice was a monotone just barely above a whisper.  "I didn't let Rollin and Jordan see him.  I didn't even let Jenkin see him."

Jack stood perfectly still now, watching the doctor sway in place and turn too-weary blue eyes to the sky again.

Jack waited as patiently as he could, but the doctor seemed content to simply stand there.  It was possible the man had fallen asleep . . .he had looked exhausted, and it wouldn't be the first time the pirate captain had seen someone sleep standing.  Just as he was about to speak or, if needed, shake the man gently back into wakefulness, Francis lowered his eyes once again.

"He trusts you.  He cares about you, for some daft reason.  He's got two scars because of you."

"I know."  Jack nodded, struggling to decipher where the doctor's thought process was heading.

Francis studied the pirate for what seemed to Jack to be forever.  "You want to see him."

"Aye."

"All right.  I'll show you where he is."

"Thank you."

Francis shook his head.  "Don't thank me.  This isn't for you.  This is for him."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Hallson's cabin.

Of all the places on the _Defender_ that they could have put him, they chose Hallson's cabin.

It made sense, of course.  It was the one place where there was a guarantee that no one would need it anytime soon.  It was just . . .

If Gibb's had been here, Jack knew he would have said it was bad luck on account of ghosts.

Jack wasn't entirely certain that he believed in ghosts, but still . . .

The soft click of the door closing told him that Francis had left, and the pirate captain moved slowly towards the still figure on the bed.  A single lantern with the wick turned down low gave most of the illumination in the cabin.

Brian's naval uniform had been removed, and in its place a large white bandage swathed his upper abdomen and lower chest.  Only a sheet covered the young man below the bandaging, but sweat was still beading on his forehead before trickling slowly down to either drip into his blond hair or onto the bedding.  The scar on his right cheek and the half-healed gash on his left stood out badly against skin that was an ashen white beneath the deep tan.

Jack hesitated a moment more before moving over to stand by the bed, purposefully ignoring the chair that had been set by the bed, knowing that he wouldn't be there for long.

He looked so young . . .

Without the naval uniform, without the strong aura of authority that he had learned to exude, without the sharp eyes that displayed the quick intelligence . . .Brian Lanebridges looked young.

Very, very young.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but for once no words would come.  It was like standing on that parapet after Will had saved his life.  Saying goodbye had been a necessity, but the proper words hadn't wanted to form.

Then he had settled on "nice hat".

It was sincerely doubtful that "nice scar" would have anything near the desired effect.

"Well, son . . .I guess I just came in here t' tell you that I'm leavin'.  You probably won't like the _way_ I'm plannin' on leavin', but hey . . .that Lieutenant of yours has been lookin' at the yardarm and then at me far too much lately.  I think he's tryin' to size me up for a noose."

Jack grinned slightly, though it faded as no answer was forthcoming.

"I'm grateful for what you did.  You're a good man, Brian, a smart man.  James would be proud.  I . . .I'm proud of ye.  And in your debt."

Jack paused again, reaching out to clasp the young man's limp, sweaty, too-hot hand.

"You keep fighting this, lad.  Wherever you are, you listen to me and you fight this.  Those men of yours are countin' on you.  You can't give up on them now."

"I'm not . . .giving up . . ."  Brian's voice was weak, so weak that Jack could barely hear it.

"It's not polite t' let someone think you're unconscious if you're not.  How long've you been awake, mate?"  Jack tried to admonish the younger man, but he couldn't help grinning from ear to ear anyway.  Having someone awake and coherent was usually a good sign.

"Long . . .'nough . . ."  Brian smiled slightly, his eyes still closed, and tried to draw a deeper breath.  He cried out as he did, his back arching against the pain.  "Oh, God . . .hurts . . ."

Jack grimaced as a bloodstain began to grow on the bandaging, placing his hands gently on the younger man's shoulders to restrain him.  "Don't try t' breathe so deeply, and don't move, no matter how bad it hurts.  C'mon, Brian, just relax.  I know it's hard, and it hurts, but you've got to, son."

A single tear forced its way past the young captain's tightly clenched eyelids as he tried to relax, every muscle in his body trembling violently.

"I'm .  . .going t' . . .die . . .aren't I . . ."  More tears followed the first.

Jack studied the younger man's face for a moment, quickly reaching a decision.

The feel of a pistol underneath his chin caused Brian to finally open his eyes.

"If you want to die, say the word and I'll pull the trigger.  I'm in your debt, and if that's how you want it repaid I'll do it."

Jack could feel the heat rolling off the military man and a fever-bright glaze covered the bright blue eyes, but the pirate captain still didn't back down.

"Do you want to die, Brian?"

The pirate captain's breath hitched slightly as the younger man still didn't answer, his eyes roving between the ceiling and Jack's face.  Maybe he had misjudged how strong the boy was . . .

"No . . ."

Jack relaxed and pulled back.  "Then you won't.  Just keep fighting, just keep saying no to the darkness, and you'll be fine."

Jack hesitated a moment before pulling his shirt down, exposing the two scars on his right chest.

"I should've died when I got these.  Probably would've made a great many people happy if I had.  I didn't, though.  Moving hurt, breathing hurt, even thinking hurt, but I didn't give up, and I made it.  You understand, Brian?"

"I . . .think so . . ."  Brian's eyes were only half-open as they followed Jack's movements.  Once he stopped speaking, the blue eyes lost their focus, roaming randomly about the room.

Every hair on Jack's neck and arms seemed to stand on end as the young captain suddenly stiffened, his eyes snapping open wide and focusing on a point just beyond Jack's left shoulder, his lips moving in what seemed to be a very familiar name though no sound came out.

Jack turned around slowly, his hand automatically going for his sword.  Standing slightly behind him and to the left was an officer of the Royal Navy, in partial dress uniform, his wig and coat absent but his sword and pistol still present.  As Jack watched, the man undid his cufflinks and sat down on the chair that was positioned next to the bed, obviously planning on a long vigil, a small smile vying with worry on his face.

"Norrington?"

The man turned to Jack at the whispered question and nodded, the small smile disappearing only to reappear a moment later.  Jack stepped back, realizing he could make out the slats that formed the back of the chair through the once-commodore's form.  Lips that hadn't spoken in over five years went through the motions of a silent thanks.

"Captain Sparrow?"

Jack quickly snapped his mouth shut and turned to face the doctor standing in the doorway.  When he turned back to the chair, he could no longer see James Norrington's form.

"Did you see . . .?"

"See what?"

_The dead man who decided he still wants to guard his protégé?_

Somehow Jack doubted that would go over well, and as a quick glance at Brian was enough to show that he was once again lost in the folds of unconsciousness, the pirate captain decided to do the only sane thing for once.

He lied.

"Nothing."

Jack didn't need any urging from Francis to leave the cabin, certain that no matter what happened the young captain wouldn't be alone to face it.


	29. Chapter 29: Farewell

AN:  I'm so, so, so sorry it took so long to get this up.  I haven't had any time to do much but breathe for the last week, though (sometimes even breathing took too much effort and time).  This is the last chapter, unless excess complaints/requests convince me to tack on an epilogue.  Otherwise any questions not answered in this chapter would have to wait until Jaraen comes up with another plot.  Anyway, I'll just make the same requests as I have the other times.  What were your favorite/least favorite parts?  What do you think I did well/didn't do well?  Was there anything missing?  Which story have you liked best?  Any comments that could help me improve as a writer would be greatly appreciated.  Hope you enjoy the end of the ride . . .

**To Love and Protect**

**Part 29: Farewell**

Jack made no noise as he slipped down to the crew's quarters of the ship.  There was one more goodbye that had to be said before he could find Ana-Maria and put his plan into action.  His rather foolhardy plan . . .but given the nearly full moon that was rising above and his familiarity with the waters, it could work.

Will and Elizabeth willingly giving up their cot in the great cabin had been both a sign of respect and a silent recognition of new authority and uncertain positions.  It had been a smart move, one that had earned them even more admiration with the crew . . .and a hammock with relative privacy.

The pirate captain gave his vision a second to adjust to the dim lighting provided by a few lanterns turned down low before working his way over to where the couple was apparently sleeping.  He paused a moment to watch them, smiling slightly.

Only those two could somehow manage to look comfortable sharing a hammock together while fully clothed.

The smile faded as he played briefly with the point of the dagger held in his right hand.  He didn't know exactly what was going to happen when the link broke, but it was something that needed to happen before he left.  The lad didn't need to worry every time Jack decided to ply his trade and things got a bit rough.

He stepped closer before setting the point of the dagger against his left hand where the earlier cut had mostly healed, though scar tissue had yet to form.  It would be a simple matter to reopen it, nick Will, and mix their blood, being careful not to touch so much as a hair on Elizabeth's head lest he suffer the blacksmith's wrath.

Not that Will was going to be pleased with him anyway.

Probably exactly the opposite, actually.

"Don't, Jack."

The pirate captain stopped abruptly at the quiet whisper from Will.

"You said after the battle.  The battle's over and done."  The small blade glinted slightly as it waved to the rhythm of the pirate's words.

"Why are you so set on breaking it?  Has it hurt you yet?"  Will still didn't open his eyes, cradling Elizabeth against his chest, her dark hair pooling around both their heads.

"If you count the headaches you've given me—"

Will's mouth turned upward in a slight grin.  "One of which you asked for, and I apologized for the other one."

"You don't know what you'll be getting yourself into.  I don't exactly lead a sedate life, Will."

"Which is why I like knowing you're all right."  Will quieted as Elizabeth shifted in his arms.

"If you distract me when I need to focus—"

"Did I distract you earlier today?  I can respect your mental barriers."

"You didn't earlier."  Jack found his voice becoming rougher and more strained than he wanted it to be.  This was supposed to be simple.  They had already agreed.

Elizabeth's soft voice, slightly blurred by sleep, brought both men up short in their quiet argument.  "We've never tried to take your freedom, Jack.  He wouldn't now.  Besides, at least with the twins the link gets thinner the further away you are from each other."

"I swear I'll stay out of your head unless specifically invited in.  Do you not trust me?  Do you think I'll hurt you?"  There was true puzzled innocence displayed on Will's face, and Jack found himself averting his gaze.

"I could hurt you, whelp.  You don't know what I'm capable of."

"I do.  You can kill, and if they deserve it you can almost enjoy it.  You can run.  You can set up barriers against anything.  You can grieve, for your crew and for your ship.  You can love someone just as deeply as I love Elizabeth.  Jack, I've seen what you can do and what you can feel.  It doesn't frighten me."  The speed with which Will was able to disentangle himself from Elizabeth and stand surprised the pirate.

The fact that the blacksmith set his left hand against the side of the dagger completely shocked Jack.

"I trust you.  Do what you think you have to do."

For a long moment Jack simply stared into his friend's . . .his _brother's . . ._eyes.  All he had to do was apply a little pressure and he would be alone in his head again.  There wouldn't be any more fears, any more doubts or commitments or moral codes filtering across, no chance the younger man might see something no one was ever meant to see . . .

There would also be none of the trust, the caring, the strength, the love.

"Damn you, William."  Jack could tell by the confused expression on Will's face that he had missed the sleight-of-hand that returned the dagger to its sheath.  "If anything goes wrong, I'm holding you responsible."

Will grinned, and the gratitude and joy that was briefly transmitted across the link was a gift unto itself.  "Nothing's going to go wrong.  Thank you.  You should be going, though . . .don't want to get stuck with a fresh watch.  Men are usually more awake at the start of a watch."

Jack shrugged.  "None of the watches'll be too inattentive tonight.  Their commander's fightin' for his life, with a little help from the afterlife."  A black scowl crossed the pirate captain's features.  "And either you're already breaking the terms of our agreement or I'm becoming far too predictable in my old age."

  
Will opened his mouth to protest, but it was Elizabeth who spoke first.  "When are you going to come by?  The children will want to see you and Ana-Maria."

"When I get a chance.  Take care of yourselves, and of those little ones.  They've grown up a lot these last few days."

The two parents simply nodded.

"We'll miss you, Jack.  Tell Ana-Maria the same."

"I will. Behave yourself, Will."

Will nodded, and Jack returned the embrace of both husband and wife before inching his quiet way back to the stairs, careful not to wake any of the still-slumbering, exhausted crewmen in his path.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"What do you think, George?  Think he's really human, or are you buying into the devil-in-disguise thing?"

George Hardel shrugged and turned away in distaste from his partner for the evening's watch, unconsciously rubbing his hands together as he had been since they were coated in his captain's blood earlier that afternoon.  "He's human.  He was sick when they first brought him here, remember?"

"Ah, but he also supposedly died and was resurrected."  Timothy pointed his right index finger upward as he spoke to emphasize his point.

"Wouldn't that make him more Christ than demon?"  George sighed at the shocked gasp from his companion.

"That's sacrilege!  You don't really believe that, do you?"

A number of sharp retorts came to mind, but the redcoat managed to bite all of them back.  While he definitely wasn't in the mood for a religious revival, he also knew Timothy wasn't the target he wanted to rail at.

Actually, the man he truly wanted to see suffer was already dead.

That made vengeance rather problematic.

Timothy was still staring at him, eyes growing wider by the second, and George considered simply keeping his own counsel and waiting to see if they would actually pop out of their sockets.

Instead he took pity on the younger man.  "No, I don't really believe he's the Christ.  I also don't believe he's Satan, or any kind of demon for that matter.  Demons don't get injured like he has been."

"So maybe he only recently became a demon, when he died.  He's brought two people back from the dead."

"One a child, and one Will Turner.  You know Will.  If there ever was a man who could personify innocence without naïveté, it's him.  Not exactly a prime choice for demons."

Timothy paused for a minute, but George waited patiently, knowing that the younger man was simply formulating more arguments.  The only thing Hardel _wasn't_ sure of was whether the younger redcoat was trying to convince George that the pirate was a demon or himself that the man couldn't be.

"What about that link thing?  That's also between the two children, apparently.  And the children . . .the lad's getting too old for it to be proper for him to sleep in the same cot as his sister, don't you think?"

The anger that he had been holding in check nearly boiled over, but a particularly vicious twisting and rubbing of his skin kept him from saying something he would regret, the burning pain a welcome ground in reality.  "Those two children have been through hell and back these last few days.  You know the 'lad' as you call him, and he hasn't changed from the boy that crewed with us for over two months!  He and his sister need to know that they're finally both alive and safe.  Besides, 'til just a bit ago the boy didn't even know anything about men and women.  As for the links . . .just because we don't understand it doesn't make it a work of evil.  It's not like I've felt him tryin' to sneak into my head or something."

Timothy seemed to consider debating the point, then shrugged and nodded.  "True.  The Lord makes enough miracles of his own . . .still, the Lieutenants don't like him, or his woman."

 "The Captain likes them."  George lowered his head and spoke to the deck, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.

"You were with him when he was shot, weren't you?  Do . . .do you really think he's going to be all right?"  Concern, uncertainty, and a vague uneasiness had all invaded the younger man's voice.

George grimaced and shook his head in reply.  He'd been with the Captain, aye, but if he could have done it again he certainly wouldn't have been.  It hadn't been his captain's blue eyes, steady and self-assured, that stared up at him as he tried desperately to staunch the flow of blood.  Instead there had been fear, a fear he had seen before, in the eyes of young men dieing before their time.  And when the young man started to ask for men that were either dead or too preoccupied with killing to come to his side . . .No, that was definitely not something he ever wanted to live through again.

As for the latest news on their captain's condition . . .that hadn't exactly been uplifting, either.

Two splashes caused both men to straighten abruptly and scan the dark deck of the ship, cloaked in deep shadows now as the moon darted behind clouds.

"What was that?"  Timothy clutched his rifle tightly, and George made a point to stay out of his way, not wanting to get shot accidentally by an overeager or terrified shipmate.

"I don't know.  Sounded like it was off the starboard rail, though."

The two marines quickly made their way to the rail and gazed out over the water.  A moment later the moon reappeared, aiding them.

"Do you see anything?  Maybe it was just some fish, or a dolphin . . ."

Hardel didn't answer.  It would have had to be a large couple of fish, especially for ones traveling in schools, and it hadn't really sounded like a dolphin . . .

A brief glimpse of waterlogged red fabric before the moon once again disappeared was all that he needed to determine what had caused the sounds.

George Hardel sent a swift prayer to God that no more blood would be shed tonight.

All he said to his young companion was, "It must've just been some dolphins."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"This is the most idiotic plan you've come up with to date."  Ana-Maria whispered the words almost directly into his ear, not wanting them to carry over the water.

"It is not idiotic."

"It is.  Foolhardy, reckless, rash, impudent, idiotic . . ."

"I get the point.  It worked well enough for Barbossa's crew, though."

"They were _undead_, there were a _lot_ of them, and they were going for _blood_."

"You didn't have to come, love."

Ana-Maria simply snorted, though Jack was able to catch the occasional muttered curse as they swam toward the _Jade_.

Climbing the anchor chain would probably have been much easier for the undead, though Jack congratulated himself on not wincing once as the slash on his shoulder stretched with the strain.  The gun ports had been left open to allow fresh air into the smoke-filled gun deck, and it took only a minor bit of acrobatics to clamber in through one.

The pirate captain took a moment to ensure that he had everything in order as Ana-Maria followed his entry route.

"What's that?"  The female pirate nodded to the small glass vial that Jack was fingering, a clear liquid gently swaying inside it.

"Insurance."  The vial disappeared into one of the pirate captain's pockets as a broad grin displayed his gold teeth.

Ana-Maria nodded, clearly curious but willing to keep silent.  She followed as he made his way to a stair that led even further below.  "How d'you know where to go?"

"I've been on this ship before."  Jack motioned for silence as they approached their destination.

The silence was unnecessary, though.

"No guards, keys on the wall . . .very trusting man, Lieutenant Rollin is, don't you think?"  Jack twirled the keys idly in his hand as he watched the privateer crew that was locked in the brig slowly wake.

"Trusting except when it comes to us."  Ana-Maria also watched the privateers, unable to keep the distrust from her eyes.  This was dangerous, taking on another man's crew, a crew that wasn't truly pirate to begin with.

Then again, they really didn't have that much choice.

"Captain Sparrow?"  The young man who had asked Jack about his beard was the first to speak, though he was quickly hushed and pushed back by the older man that had taken over negotiations when Jason Compson met his maker.

"Jack Sparrow.  Ye come with a deal fer us?"

"Still _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and aye, I've got a deal for you.  I'm sure you heard what happened to Captain Lanebridges."

The privateer nodded, suspicion obvious on his face.  "We were wonderin' how the man's goin' t' protect our lives when he can' e'en protect 'imself."

"It is rather problematic, isn't it?  Of course, there's a simple solution.  Don't stay in a situation where your lives depend on his."

"An' exactly how are ye proposin' we do that, _Captain _Sparrow?  Ye might no' 'ave noticed, but our ship is crawlin' with marines."  The entire privateer crew was awake and listening attentively.

"I did notice, actually.  Maybe what you don't know is that I once commandeered two ships of the Royal Navy in under ten minutes with only myself and a blacksmith to work with.  This can't be all that much harder, now can it?"  Jack grinned as he spoke, continuing to swing the keys back in forth.  Some of the privateers followed the movement of the keys with their heads, looking for all the world like shaggy dogs hoping for table scraps.

"An' what would be yer terms and plans fer us takin' our own vessel back, then?"  The old privateer ignored the keys, watching Jack's face and eyes, scanning constantly for signs of deception.

"I let you boys out, we take back the ship, I captain her and we make for the nearest port that'll be a safe haven for both us and you.  There you'll get all the swag you've got stored in the hold, and those of you who want to can go out in the market for another ship and stay privateer.  Those of you who want to sign ship's articles and continue to crew on the _Jade_ as pirates will be welcome to stay.  Do we have an accord?"

A gesture of the old privateer's hand silenced the whispered that had sprung up among the crew.  "Ye get the _Jade_ when all's said and done?  What makes ye think we'll agree t' that?"

"Because I have the keys, I know the waters, I've got the plan, and if you don't want to be swingin' with me and my first mate here then I'd suggest you agree.  I'll make sure you get a good ship, even if it means takin' a bit out of my own pocket.  I'm not demandin' any part of the swag for myself.  I'm tryin' to be reasonable here, mate."  Jack stepped closer to the bars, still swinging the keys, close enough to taunt the captive men but not close enough for any of them to do anything about it.

"Ye're certain this plan o' yers'll work?"  The old privateer looked uncertainly between Jack and Ana-Maria, who had hung back by the stairs, watching for guards.

"Two ships in ten minutes with two people.  Compared to that, this is easy."  Gold teeth again glinted as Jack grinned, holding out his hand and stepping closer to the bars, still holding the keys outside their reach.  "Do we have an accord?"

The privateer returned the grin with an uncertain smile of his own.  "Aye.  We've an accord.  Now get us out."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Rollin wiped a hand across his eyes once more, dispelling the fog that had settled over his vision and throwing a last glance in the _Defender_'s direction.  It was long past time for him to call it a night . . .they would need every man able in body and in mind for what lay ahead, officers included.

He was almost as shocked as the marine on watch when his fist connected abruptly with the rail, causing his knuckles to crack and bringing a grimace of pain to his face.

Brian should never have been on the _Defender_ in the first place.  It was foolhardy, rash, brash, idiotic . . .brave, valiant, daring, courageous . . .If the young man survived, it would be an even call as to whether Rollin would salute him, embrace him, or punch him.

"Gentlemen, please remain calm and keep your hands away from your weapons.  We're taking over this ship."  The calm voice sliced through the relative quiet of the night and it took a great deal of self-control on Rollin's part to keep from cursing furiously as he spun around, one hand automatically dropping to his pistol despite the warning.  He should have known better than to trust the pirate, no matter what the captain had said.

"I really wouldn't do that, mate."

Rollin froze, the click of a pistol being cocked assuring him he would never reach his weapons in time.

"Now, Lieutenant, if you'd kindly just order your men to weigh anchor, unfurl the sails, drop the boats on the starboard side, and then get in said boats, I'd be very appreciative."  The pistol the pirate kept aimed at his chest belied the politeness of the request.

"What makes you think I'd want to do that, Sparrow?"  There was absolutely no way he was going to give up his first command that easily.

"I do happen to have a pistol aimed at your heart."

"If you shoot me, my men will shoot you."  Rollin couldn't help but swallow nervously anyway.  He rather enjoyed living.

"I'm not exactly alone, either."  The pirate used his free hand to gesture to the other men around him, the _Jade_'s original privateer crew.  The female pirate stood to the side and slightly behind her captain, gazing around suspiciously, waiting for someone to make a wrong move.

"You can't take this ship, Sparrow.  I'll not order my men to do the work, and you can't very well guard us and crew the ship at the same time.  I believe what we have here is a stalemate."  Rollin was rather proud of the strength and dispassion he had managed to fill his voice with.

"Really?  What would you say if I said that your captain's life depended on whether or not you followed my instructions?"

"You can't think that I'd believe . . ."  The derisive words stopped abruptly as Rollin studied the dark, predatory, deadly serious face of the man in front of him.  They had already dealt with a mercenary who used poison . . .in an effort to ensure his own survival, was it really so far-fetched to believe that this pirate would as well?  "How could you have?  Welks wouldn't even let Jenkin see him, why would he let . . ."

"Because he knows Brian trusts me.  He thought it might do the whelp good, figured it couldn't do him any harm . . .Now, I really don't have anything against the boy living, so if you'd like the antidote . . ."  The pirate captain held up a small vial.

"You bastard.  God _damn_ you, he trusted you."  Rollin almost expected to feel blood start dripping down his hands as his fingers convulsively tightened into fists.

"I don't think that's helping anyone, mate.  Now, my requests were fairly simple and straightforward, weren't they?  Why don't you follow them, so we can all be on our way?"

Rollin again studied the man in front of him.  Was he bluffing?  He seemed so serious . . .and he knew the man was capable of killing, if he felt he had to . . .to protect both himself and the woman . . .the pirate could always tell himself, if Brian died, that it had either been inevitable from the injuries or Rollin's fault for delaying too long . . .

"Do what he said."  The words were forced through a throat that suddenly seemed too tight.

No one moved.

"Do what he said!"

This time the marines and sailors jumped to obey, weighing anchor and unfurling the sails, lowering the boats, all by the intermittent light of the moon.  Shouts from the _Defender_ indicated that the watch had seen what was happening, but no one replied, and with the Royal Navy men disembarking on the starboard side of the _Jade_ any shots that the _Defender_ fired would have a greater chance of killing friend than they would have of killing foe.

Rollin was peripherally aware of his men being herded off the ship, but he kept his eyes focused only on Jack Sparrow and the woman standing beside him, one portion of his mind still searching for a way to extricate himself from his predicament, another part of his mind searching for mercy in the unreadable eyes.

Sparrow finally relaxed, grinning, and Rollin knew that he was the only marine left on the ship.

"Well, Lieutenant, I guess this would be farewell for us, aye?"

Rollin didn't answer, standing stiffly next to the railing.

"Isn't there something you'd like to ask me?  How much time your captain has?  How much of this you should give him?  Whether it'll really work or not?  Whether or not I think I can get away with this?"  Jack paced slowly toward the uncertain officer as he spoke until finally he was standing directly in front of him, the pistol in one hand and the small vial in the other.  "Hop on into one of the boats, Lieutenant, and I'll tell you what you need to know."

Rollin could see as he followed the pirate's instructions that the privateer crew had already taken up their positions on the ship, though the helm was notably unmanned.

"That's a good Navy man.  Now, what was I going to do . . ."  Sparrow leaned against the rail, staring down at the men in the water, a faint smile on his face.

"Give me the antidote.  If he dies it'll be on your head, and I won't rest until you're dead."  Despite his best efforts, Rollin found it hard to sound intimidating and in command when staring up at the man he was talking to.

"Ah, that's right . . .the antidote.  Well, y'see . . ."  Sparrow toyed with the vial for a moment before tossing it towards Rollin, who caught it with a minimum of fumbling.  The faint smile became a full-fledged grin.  "You were right the first time.  I wouldn't do that to the lad, not when he was already fighting for his life.  You might want to give him that anyway . . .he'll be needin' just about anything you can get into him to help with the pain."

For a moment Rollin simply stared at the pirate, completely speechless.  He had just handed over his first command to a pirate, all because he had fallen for a bluff.

"Don't take it so hard, son.  You're loyal, and you wanted your captain to live.  Nothin' wrong with that.  Besides, you were up against Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?  You never had a chance."

With that Sparrow disappeared from the rail, either going to take the helm or to chart a course for whomever he decided to name helmsman.  Rollin toyed with the idea of ordering his men to shoot at the ship that was slowly moving away and the privateers crewing her but quickly decided against it.  Enough blood had already been shed.

"Make for the _Defender_."  Even as he decided how he would present his case to Captain Jenkin, Rollin couldn't decide whether to hate the pirate captain for what he had done . . .or to thank him for showing his own, rather unique, brand of loyalty.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The docks at Tortuga were crawling with sailors, ranging from honest merchant sailors to pirates to the occasional crew of privateers looking for supplies and a good time.

"It's been a pleasure working with ye, Captain Sparrow.  Profitable, too."  The old privateer smiled widely and extended his hand.

"Aye, Dave, quite pleasant and quite profitable.  I'm grateful to you and your boys for makin' it such."  Jack returned the handshake, turning with the older man to survey the two ships docked side by side.  "Are you sure you wouldn't want to rethink stayin' aboard?  You made a fine second mate."

David laughed and shook his head.  "I'm too old t' give up my marque and go back t' full-time piracy.  I like only havin' two navies after my head at any one time.  Besides, ye already snagged about half o' my boys."

"They're good men . . .still need a bit more training, but they're good men."

"Aye, they are, and ye're a fair captain.  Ye've earned the _Jade_, and I'm more than content with the _Eagle_."  Both men surveyed the ship tied up next to the _Jade_.  "She's a good ship.  Cost a pretty penny, but a good ship."

"I'm sure you'll do fine with her."

"As I'm certain ye'll do fine with the _Jade_.  I'll be seein' ye around, Jack Sparrow.  Fair winds and calm seas."

"Same to you, Dave."

The privateer nodded and made his way down the dock, humming the newest song he had learned under his breath.  Jack smiled as he heard it, but the smile quickly faded as he stared at the _Jade_.

"Not quite the _Pearl_, is she?"  Ana-Maria wrapped her arms gently around her captain, speaking softly into his ear.

Jack leaned back into her embrace, shaking his head slightly.  "No, definitely not the _Pearl_.  There'll never be another ship like her."

"I know.  I'm sorry."

"For what?"  Jack turned his head slightly so he could see his lover and first mate.

"That you're hurting.  That I didn't see through Michael's tricks.  That I doubted you.  That I can't do anything t' help you with this."

Jack twisted all the way around in her embrace.  "You are doin' somethin'.  You're being here.  I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost both of my ladies."

Ana-Maria didn't get a chance to answer as Jack leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss, both a display of passion and a reassurance.

When they finally broke apart, Jack's trademark grin was once more in place.

"Now, love, how about we go chase some horizons?" 


	30. Epilogue: Home Again

Disclaimer:  Does anyone believe I own them?  Speak now, please!

AN:  Well, a few close mates requested it, so here it is.  Also . . .well . . .Jaraen's being cruel to me, so go check out the new stories he's playing with.

**To Love and Protect**

**Epilogue**

The quality of the darkness that held him was changing.  For the longest time it had been complete, an ebon curtain that blocked his view of any world.  At first he had thought himself alone in the darkness, but that had quickly changed, understanding dawning with a mix of awe and fear.

Something had stalked him.

He had never seen what it was, but he had felt it, an even colder and blacker part of the darkness, and he had run from it.

There had been something else, too . . .something that would distract the deeper darkness, something that would give him a chance to rest . . .

Now, though, the darkness had been steadily lightening, but with each lightening came the growing sense of pain, as though someone had lit a fire in his gut and left it to smolder.  For the moment the pain was still separate, still not a part of him, but if he took one more step away from the dark . . .

_Don't fight it, and whatever you do don't move.  You'll be fine._

Seemingly without his consent the veil that separated him from the world where the pain was began to unravel, and the young man hissed quietly, determined not to cry out while attempting to decide if it was possible to not breath for an hour or so.  When not breathing the pain actually seemed manageable.

_You're fine, Brian.  The pain will go away in time._

If opening his eyes was difficult, then focusing was nearly impossible, the form bending over him little more than a blurred outline against a dim background.

_Rest.  They're caring for you.  You did what was right, even if it wasn't entirely lawful.  I'm proud of you._

The voice was familiar, as was the blurred visage that apparently went with it, but his mind seemed unable to wrap around a name, or a reason why he should feel such implicit trust.

He blinked slowly, hoping to bring some manner of clarity to his vision, but when he opened his eyes the man was gone.  It took nearly a full minute for his mind to work through the thought that if the man had left he would probably have used the door, and several more minutes to remember how to turn his head and refocus his vision.

"Brian!  You're awake!"  Elizabeth halted abruptly in the doorway, a grin quickly spreading across her face, and Brian found himself smiling, as well.

"How do you feel?  Are you comfortable?"  Brian decided he must have blinked again, as Elizabeth seemed to move from the doorway to his bed without taking any steps between.  Her hand was cool on his forehead as she smoothed unruly blond locks down.  "You're not hot, either.  Oh, thank God.  We've been so worried about you."

The young captain frowned, disgusted at the sluggishness of his own thoughts.  There was something he should ask her . . .

He grinned, wincing briefly as the too-deep breath that followed caused the fire in his gut to move from smoldering to flames.  "Who . . .was here . . .before?"  His voice was hoarse, barely audible, and Elizabeth quickly grabbed a glass of water and expertly raised his head so he could drink.

"Before?  Before when?  We've been with Captain Jenkin all afternoon, being . . .debriefed.  Not many people know everything what happened, and he's managed to craft quite a believable tale that should at least keep you alive and let you stay in the Navy, even if it doesn't keep you from getting demoted."  Elizabeth stopped, smiling slightly as she studied his face.  "And you're still too out of it understand much of what I just said, aren't you?"

Yes, he was, but that didn't matter at the moment.  He would just handle one thing at a time, and eventually everything would make sense.  "Before.  Not long ago.  Maybe ten minutes, a half hour . . .man . . .might've passed him in the hall . . .told me I'd be fine . . ."

"Maybe it was one of the soldiers on watch.  You're men've been worried about you, too."  Elizabeth gently took his hand in hers.  "It doesn't really matter who it was.  You're safe.  Whoever it was obviously didn't mean any harm."

"I know.  I . . .felt safe . . .should know who . . .it was . . ."  There was something about the voice that was bothering him, something he should realize that was nagging at the back of his mind.  "Voice . . .same voice . . .as in the darkness.  Phrase . . .it was the same phrase . . ."

It was the same phrase Jack had used.

_I'm proud of you_.

It was a phrase that had a disconcerting tendency to be used when you either thought someone was dying or thought you'd never see them again, never get a chance to tell them again.

What was it Jack had said?

_James would be proud of you, son.  I'm proud of you.  _

"James . . ."  Brian smiled and allowed his eyes to drift closed.  His mentor had protected him.  How he had earned the privilege was a mystery to him, but he was still grateful beyond words.

"A little bit of help from the afterlife . . ."  Elizabeth's whisper caused the young man to again struggle back to full consciousness, and he gazed through slitted eyes that still managed to convey curiosity.

"Jack, when he was saying goodbye . . .he said you had a little bit of help from the afterlife.  Will and I didn't think to ask what he meant."

"Where's Jack?"  The haze that had blanketed his mind was slowly lifting, allowing a bit more coherent thought.  The pirate would have wanted to place as much distance between himself and the navy as possible.

"He . . .well . . .he commandeered the _Jade_.  It's a rather long story, but Rollin can't decide whether to hate the man or respect him."

"He took the _Jade_?  Did he take her crew?"  It wasn't entirely unexpected, Jack setting his sights on the privateer vessel, but it still would have involved a good deal of planning and foresight.

"He took the privateer crew.  He didn't take any of your men, though.  He didn't offer anyone a choice, and he didn't try to take any hostages.  He was very well-behaved."

Brian nodded, his eyes closing again of their own volition.

"Go ahead and sleep, Brian.  We're taking care of everything."

Elizabeth's hand again brushed his hair back into place, lingering on his forehead, the woman apparently not quite able to believe that he really was getting better.

"Thank you.  For taking care of me.  I owe you."

Though he couldn't see her face, he had no doubt that she was smiling.  "You don't owe us anything, Brian.  You're family.  Family cares for family, remember?"

He smiled faintly as a gentler darkness rose to cradle his being.

His family.  It must qualify as one of the strangest families in the world . . .but it was also the best anyone could ever hope to know.


End file.
